Aftermath
by InfestedWithNargles777
Summary: The war is over, and Harry is known as the "Savior. "But when the past, the press, and the people begin to drive Harry crazy, he decides to escape for a while. His friends and Ginny don't agree with it, and try to change his mind before he leaves forever.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I hope you like the story! Pleasepleaseplease review even if you don't like it...I love to hear your thoughts! Thank you! :)**

"We now bring to you, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior…Harry Potter!"

Harry grimaced at the list of titles, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He had repeatedly told the Ministry that he simply wanted to be referred to as Harry, not any of the million other titles that had been given to him. And _especially _not this new one that was floating around. The _Savior. _It made him sound like a god, and that was the last thing that Harry wanted to be thought of as, at this point.

Despite Harry's annoyance with the introduction, the audience seemed to have different feelings. The applause and cheering was deafening, seemingly louder than the noise had been at the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, and both of them nodded. It was time.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked forward, thrust aside the velvet curtain, and stepped onto the stage to greet the Wizarding World. Whatever he had planned to say immediately caught in his throat at the cheer size of the crowd. It stretched from right in front of the stage that had been erected outside the main doors of Hogwarts, until the Quidditch pitch far off in the distance. Each and every person in the sea of people was cheering, clapping and shouting, some carrying signs that read messages of thanks, or of happiness.

Harry pointed his wand at his throat and muttered a spell to magnify his voice. He would definitely need it for this crowd.

"Er, hi everyone," he said, and the audience erupted into even louder cheers.

Stunned, Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, both of whom seemed just as shocked as he was. They hadn't realized that the crowd could get any louder. And at nothing, either. All Harry had done was say hello.

Harry took the time to let his eyes scan over the people. He spotted many familiar faces, but the majority were wizards and witches that he had never seen before. The reporters all had spots up front, but right behind them stood his friends. Luna was there, looking up at him, along with Neville, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and various members of Dumbledore's Army. Right beside them stood the Weasleys, their fiery red hair standing out even amongst the thousands there. And there, right in the center, between the Weasley family and Dumbledore's Army, stood Ginny.

Harry forced his eyes away. If he looked at Ginny too long, he would be standing there staring forever.

"Everyone, if you do not stay quiet, Silencing Charms will have to be used," Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward, his deep voice ringing loud and clear.

"Thanks, Kingsley," Harry muttered.

"Anytime," Kingsley replied, stepping back.

"Well, hello everyone," Harry said. "I didn't prepare a speech or anything like that, so I apologize in advance if this doesn't come out eloquently. I'd like to start with a thank you. I'd like to thank…well…everyone. My friends, my classmates, all the people who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts…without all of you, Voldemort would without a doubt still be alive right now, so thank you. All of you."

Cheers erupted from the audience, and Harry let them clap for a few moments before he cleared his throat, and the noise dissolved.

"Now, as all of you know, Voldemort is dead. If you've heard any rumors that he might still be alive, they're wrong. He's dead and gone, and isn't coming back. You see, he used a bit of Dark Magic to split his soul into multiple pieces, but Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and I have managed to destroy all of them, so that when I went to fight Voldemort it was an even fight. I'd also like to clear up rumors that I used the Killing Curse when I was battling him. I didn't. I only tried to Disarm him, but because he did not have mastery over the particular wand he was using, his spell rebounded and killed him. I am unable to provide you with all the details on these matters, but I have told you all that the Ministry had enabled me to tell you.

"Also, to everyone who has lost a loved one due to this war, I am so sorry. I am horrified that so many people had to die to create a world that we can live peacefully in, but they will not have died in vain. A memorial will be constructed outside Hogwarts in memory for those who died in the war, with each name engraved on it."

Harry paused, glancing around. Many people were crying, some with smiles on their faces. The memorial at Hogwarts was a fabulous idea. Harry took a breath and continued on.

"Now, as Voldemort is dead, we must move into the future, and into the rest of our lives. We must move into a life free of war, and though we will still suffer with the pain over those we have lost, our lives will now be filled with peace and rid of fear. The Ministry is being completely reformed, and our new Minister of the Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, in my personal opinion will make an excellent Minister. Hogwarts is being rebuilt as well, and should be open for school in September, with the incredible Minerva McGonagall as the new Headmistress. Other reform and rebuilding projects will take place, but it is not my place to inform you of those."

Harry took another breath, and spoke to the audience again.

"In fact, I'm not quite sure what my place is. I've been called many things by the press and by the people, since the day I was born. The Boy Who Lived was the first. That was my title for a while. Then came the Hogwarts years, and things got a bit more interesting. In my fifth year, most of you hated me. The Boy Who Lied, I think you called me. For that, I forgive you. After that you started calling me the Chosen One, and now, you call me the Savior. I don't think I deserve any of these titles, or any of the awards that people are trying to give me. But thank you all so much for considering me deserving of this kind of praise. I'm really astounded, and always have been ever since I was eleven, how highly the Wizarding community thinks of me.

"For the past seventeen years I've constantly been in the news. But now I think it's time for me to fade away a bit. The war is over, and it's time for life to go back to normal. You have all been so brave, and you all deserve long, peaceful lives. Thank you to all, and good luck. I'll be helping the Wizarding World every step of the way."

Harry ended his speech, bracing himself for what was sure to be an eruption of sound. It was deafening. He felt the urge to cover his ears but resisted. With Rita Skeeter in the audience, something rude would definitely be written about that course of action. He stood there, smiling and waving for a couple minutes, before he hurried backstage to see Ron and Hermione.

"How'd I do?" he asked them.

Hermione brushed a tear from her eye and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Oh Harry, you were wonderful, I completely take back what I said about how you should have written a speech," she said, pulling away from him. "It was quite moving."

"Yeah, good job, mate," Ron agreed, giving Harry a quick hug as well.

"Thanks," Harry said, his heart rate slowing now that thousands of people weren't waiting on his every word. "It's great that this is the only press conference too…I don't know how many more reporters I can take."

Hermione frowned.

"Well, Harry, I'm sure they'll still come up to you all the time," she pointed out. "You're going to face a lot of publicity for the next few months, maybe even years."

Harry shrugged.

"I'm sure it won't be so bad," he said. "I mean, it can't be worse than fourth year with Rita Skeeter, can it?"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hermione admitted. "You did save the world, after all."

"Leave it alone, Hermione," Ron cut in. "It'll be fine. Harry's handled Voldemort; he can handle a few reporters, can't he?"

When Kingsley gave the three friends the all clear signal, they headed out of what remained of Hogwarts to a portion of the grounds that was barred off from the enormous crowds with enchanted barriers. Although the people themselves were kept away from the trio, their screams and cheers weren't, and neither were their arms as thousands of them thrust pieces of parchment at them in hope of a signature.

"Er, Kingsley?" Harry turned to the Minister as they began walking towards the gates. "Do they…do they want our autographs?"

"It's like we're movie stars," Hermione gasped, completely in shock.

"They do, Harry," Kingsley nodded. "But I told them you all couldn't sign anything to spare you the trouble."

Harry nodded. He really didn't feel like signing thousands of pieces of parchment. It would take hours, and what did they want "Harry Potter" scribbled on a piece of parchment for, anyway? But as Harry passed the screaming people, guilt embedded itself in the pit of his stomach. These people had lost loved ones in the war; these people had probably fought in the war.

"I'm going to shake their hands," Harry said, and before anyone could say anything, he walked towards the barriers.

Harry muttered thank yous repeatedly, shaking every hand that was outstretched toward him. After a few minutes, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking hands, muttering their thanks. It took an hour to get to the gates, but it was worth it to see the joyous looks on everyone's faces.

"So," Ron said once they stepped outside the grounds of Hogwarts. "To the Savior's party?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him, but the three friends grasped hands and with a quick turn disappeared into thin air.

**A/N: The next chapter should be up soon! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you like this chapter too! Pleasepleaseplease review! If you do, I'll review one of your stories! Also, I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously. -said in snapelike voice :P**

Chapter 2

When the trio arrived at the doors of the Ministry of Magic, Harry almost didn't recognize it, partially due to the enormous poster of himself draped over the doors, and partially due to elaborate decorations that transformed every part of the lobby. Harry looked around, and couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed. It didn't even look like the Ministry anymore, but rather seemed to be more like a catering hall, or a place that one would think to have a celebration.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry turned around, holding in a groan. He knew it wouldn't be long before someone recognized him.

Harry turned around to face the voice that had called him. He didn't recognize the man, but he knew he was a reporter by the parchment streaming from one hand and a quill gripped tightly in the other. Another man stood beside him, holding on to a professional-looking camera.

"Mr. Potter," the man said again, shifting his reporting materials so that he could shake Harry's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, simply a pleasure."

"Pleasure to meet you, too," Harry replied politely, shaking his hand managing a smile. He turned to Ron and Hermione quickly. "You both can go; I'll be there in a minute."

"Would you mind if I asked a few questions?" the reporter asked. "And maybe took a picture or two? We missed the announcement, you see, and we would like to get some sort of story."

Harry bit his lip. He had not wanted to be answering numerous questions. In fact, that was one of the main points of the public announcement…so that he wouldn't have to. But what if the man had fought? What if he had lost family in the war? What if he had supported Dumbledore and the Order every step of the way?

Sighing, Harry nodded.

"Go ahead," he agreed.

The evening continued on in a similar pattern. Harry answered questions for reporters, and once he finished, stood around with Ron and Hermione before yet another reporter would approach and ask more of the same questions.

As a blonde reporter asked her first question, the Ministry doors opened yet again to reveal another guest. But this guest wasn't an ordinary witch or wizard who had done something important. This guest was much more special in the eyes of the Savior.

Harry almost let his butterbeer slide out of his hand as he stared, transfixed, at the guest who had entered. Her fiery hair seemed to burn as the last rays of the sun illuminated it, and her eyes sparkled, reflecting the crystalline chandelier along with their own unique beauty. As Ginny Weasley entered the room, Harry's breath caught in his throat and he absentmindedly put his butterbeer down on the nearest table.

"Mr. Potter? Er, excuse me, Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned back to the reporter, back to reality.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked, not allowing himself to turn his head towards the redhead again. If he did, he would surely never look away.

"Is that a friend of yours?" the reporter asked, nodding in the direction of Ginny.

Harry looked back at his former girlfriend, and his mind raced. How could he possibly get Ginny involved with the press? It would torment her.

"I…I, er, well…" he stuttered, desperately trying to think of what to say. Where was Hermione when she was most needed? "What question did you ask before?"

Harry almost slapped himself. That was quite clearly not an intelligent thing to say. His fixation on Ginny was obvious now.

"Is that girl who just walked in a friend of yours? She's quite pretty," the reporter said in what Harry perceived as an attempt to be conversational.

Harry almost scoffed. "Quite pretty" didn't even begin to describe Ginny's appearance. Her soft, flowing hair was the color of leaves in autumn, yet smelled like the flowers of the spring. Her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate, warm and completely mesmerizing. Her freckles dotted her beautiful, clear skin and the dress she wore complimented her perfectly.

"I…well, I—" Harry stumbled through nonsense again, but was cut short when the red-haired girl herself walked up to him.

"Hey Harry," she said with a stunning smile.

"Hey Ginny," Harry said weakly, wishing desperately for her to walk away.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" Ginny blushed as she saw the reporter standing beside them. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's quite fine, Mr. Potter seems to have lost his ability to speak anyway," the reporter said with a small smile. "You look quite beautiful, dear. What is your name?"

"I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley," Ginny said kindly. "And thank you very much."

Harry couldn't hold in his grimace. They had Ginny's name. They had it. Now they could do whatever they wanted with it. Reporters were not to be trusted. Especially reporters with compliments up their sleeves.

"We actually have to get going now but I'm sorry I couldn't answer any more questions," Harry said quickly, grabbing Ginny's hand.

He pulled her towards Ron and Hermione, walking at a rapid pace across the lobby.

"Harry! Slow down!" Ginny said as they neared the couple. She stumbled forward a few steps, slightly tottering in her glistening high heels.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "We had to get away from her though. She's a reporter, Ginny. You can't just give her your name like that. You can't trust her!"

Ginny bit her lip and looked back in the direction they had come from.

"I guess you're right," she agreed.

They fell into silence. Harry gathered up his courage and looked up from his shoes into Ginny's eyes. There he was, the guy who had saved the world, drowning in the chocolate abyss of his ex-girlfriend's eyes, without a thing to say to her. Or perhaps with too much to say.

"Ginny, I—"

But before he could get another word out, Ginny was kissing him, her hands running through his always-messy black hair. As much as Harry knew people were staring at them, and as much as he knew it was bound to be in the _Prophet _the next morning, and as much as he knew he probably had a line of reporters waiting for him, he kissed her back, tangling his fingers in her fiery tresses.

They broke apart after several moments, and Harry gazed at Ginny.

"I've been waiting for months to do that," Ginny admitted, biting her lip.

"Me too," Harry agreed. "I honestly thought I might never be able to."

"I was worried about the same thing," Ginny nodded, her brown eyes suddenly filled with sadness. "Especially when Hagrid came out carrying you when everyone thought you were…were..."

Ginny looked away, trailing off, tears pooling in her eyes. But before Harry could wipe the tears away, she regained her composure and faced him again.

"I was so afraid, Harry," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I was so scared I lost you. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. Despite what Neville said…the battle felt over for me. With you gone…what meaning would life have anymore? I love you, Harry. I really, truly love you, and I can't lose you again. Do you promise me that?"

Harry looked at the red-haired girl and at the pain in her eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to take that pain away...

"I love you too, Ginny," he said. "And I promise that you won't lose me again. Not if I can help it."

And with that, he leaned down and kissed her again. Who cared if the photographers saw? He had Ginny, he loved her, and best of all, she loved him. If only for a moment, life seemed perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope you like this chapter too! Sorry for the slowish beginning...the story should pick up a bit after this. Thank you for reading! Please review...I love reviews. :)**

Chapter 3

"Harry James Potter! You may be the Savior, but get your—"

"All right, all right, I'm getting up!" Harry said quickly, sliding his glasses onto his face as he sat up in bed. "Sheesh, Hermione, what's the rush?"

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon," she said. "We have a meeting with Kingsley in a few hours."

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Really?" he asked, and Hermione nodded. "I don't want to go…but whatever. I guess at least it's just Kingsley."

Hermione sighed, and couldn't seem to hide back a giggle.

"Your hair looks ridiculous, Harry," she said, attempting to flatten part of it.

Harry rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Has it ever _not _looked ridiculous?" he said, standing up once Hermione drew her hand away. "Seriously, you've known me practically seven years now. My hair doesn't lie flat."

He frowned, catching his reflection in the window. He ran his hand through his hair a few times and smiled.

"Besides," he said with a grin. "Ginny likes my hair like this."

Hermione's smile seemed to falter for a moment, but Harry didn't pay much attention to it and instead gathered up some clothes and headed to the shower. When he came out he walked down to the Weasleys' kitchen, which for once in all the times he had visited, didn't have a frantic Mrs. Weasley bustling around.

"Where's Mrs. Weasley?" Harry murmured to Hermione when he entered the kitchen, his eyes fixed on Ron, who was rummaging around the cabinets.

"She's doing stuff for Fred," Hermione whispered back.

Harry's stomach dropped. Fred. Fred, the other half of George, one of the famous Weasley twins, the hysterical redheaded wizard, was dead. Gone. Never to crack another joke or pull another prank ever again.

Harry gripped the table tightly and took a few deep breaths, fighting the dizzy feeling that threatened to take over. Hermione glanced at him, concerned, but he shook his head. It would take a while to get over the aftermath, but it wasn't impossible.

Trying to distract himself, Harry glanced around the kitchen.

"Where's the _Prophet_?" Harry asked.

Hermione gasped and Ron straightened up so fast that his head banged against one of the wooden cabinets. Swearing, Ron conjured up some ice to hold against his head.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "Well! It…it hasn't arrived yet."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"It hasn't arrived? It always gets here in the morning."

"Well," Hermione said indignantly, "it's…it's not here at the moment."

Harry frowned, staring at the bushy haired girl. Hermione was definitely hiding something from him, but he wasn't sure what. He stared her down, and though Hermione's gaze faltered, she didn't reveal any other information. Giving up, Harry turned to Ron who weakened under Harry's stare.

"Oh, come on Hermione, he's gonna see it eventually," Ron said, taking a bite out of a biscuit.

"Ron!" Hermione burst out, but rolled her eyes and turned to Harry. "Harry, I—"

"See what?" Harry asked, turning to each of his friends. "What am I going to see?"

"'Ermyknee," Ron chewed, gesturing towards his girlfriend.

Hermione took a deep breath before her eyes locked onto Harry's green ones.

"The _Prophet_," she explained. "The front page article in the _Prophet_. It's on you, Harry. I…I didn't think you'd like to see it. It's not the most…complimentary. But I suppose you'll have to look eventually."

"Give it to me," Harry demanded, holding out his hand. "I want to see it."

Sighing, Hermione waved her wand and the Wizarding newspaper appeared on the kitchen table. Harry snatched it up, unfolding it to read the headline blaring across the front page:

**HARRY POTTER…THE SAVIOR?**

"I can already tell this is going to be crap," Harry muttered, and Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"It's a load of rubbish, Harry, so don't believe anything they're trying to say," Hermione said quickly. "Really, it's utter rubbish. Just ignore everything they're writing."

Harry ignored Hermione and started reading the article.

_Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and now…the Savior? As many recall, on May 2__nd__ Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort who had been terrorizing the Wizarding World. In a press conference yesterday, Potter explained what had happened that fateful night, claiming that in fact he had not truly killed the Dark Lord, but rather, rebounded his own Killing Curse. Potter provided no other details, but this alone has led us to the conclusion: is Harry Potter truly responsible for the death of the most evil wizard of our time? Is he worthy to have a title such as The Savior? Many aren't sure._

_ The Battle of Hogwarts was one of the largest battles in Wizarding history, and resulted in numerous casualties. Hundreds have died, and even more have been injured in this battle. Though the witches and wizards at the battle were fighting for freedom from Lord Voldemort's reign, in a sense many were also fighting for Harry Potter himself. Several times throughout the night, the Dark Lord asked Potter to step forth, and promised to spare those who did not stand in his path. However, despite the numerous offers by his enemy, Potter did not step forth until well after midnight, a decision that cost hundreds of people their lives. This brings up a curious question: is this something that a Savior would do?_

_ After the address to the Wizarding World last night, Potter hurried off to the after party with his close friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Thousands of eager witches and wizards who had lost loved ones stood behind metal gates, thrusting their hands at the trio, begging for a simple autograph from the boy who had supposedly saved the world. Though they did this with a desperation only those who had known the depression of loss would know, Potter and his friends walked by without signing a single one. Later on, Potter, Weasley, and Granger did shake several hands and mutter their appreciation for the support, yet no permanent expression of gratitude was given. _

_ Some also chastise Potter for his brief acknowledgement of the hundreds that died in the Battle of Hogwarts, and the thousands that died in the war against Dark Magic. He only spent a few sentences on these matters, and did not shed tears over either of them. Rumors have been circulated over whether Potter has developed a cold side towards emotional matters such as these, perhaps signifying that he does not truly care for the witches and wizards that lost their lives in the war._

_ However, it is not fair to say that Potter does not have strong emotions for anyone. At the after party after dismissing reporters with questions about the war and other important events, he spent time with seventeen-year-old Ginny Weasley. The two were seen kissing and talking for most of the night, and many hoped the Potter would take a bit more time to answer questions and address issues rather than kiss his (supposed) girlfriend. Oddly enough, Ginny Weasley lost brother Fred Weasley in the battle, and it seemed odd that Potter would be focused on kissing her and talking casually to her rather than comforting her in her grief._

_ All of this poses the question: is Harry Potter, the boy we have idolized for nearly eighteen years, truly the Savior of the Wizarding World? And if he is, is he acting in a way that a Savior should act? That we leave up to you. _

_ For more information on this pressing matter, please see the next issue of the Daily Prophet._

Harry put down the newspaper slowly, his hands shaking with anger.

"Harry…" Hermione squeaked, realizing he had finished. "Harry, it's rubbish."

"OF COURSE IT'S RUBBISH HERMIONE!" Harry shouted, standing up from his chair, throwing the paper across the room. "What, do you think that any of this is true?"

Hermione shook her head frantically, clearly frightened.

"Of course not, Harry! I don't believe a word of it!"

Harry's anger welled up inside of him and he paced around the kitchen. Was that really what the world thought of him? Was that the praise he was given after all he had done?

"And do you guys think this about me?" Harry asked angrily, rounding on Ron and Hermione who were huddled together on the other side of the kitchen. "Do you think I don't care about anyone? Do—"

"Of course we don't, mate," Ron said calmly. "It's just the bloody _Prophet _trying to mess everything up again. Don't worry, I'm sure Kingsley is going to sort it out. You should've seen mum and dad…they were absolutely furious about the article."

Harry looked at him and his anger ebbed away a bit, but not much. He continued to pace, his mind reeling. Why didn't anyone ever leave him alone? Why was he constantly badgered and put down in front of all of England?

_"Incendio!" _Harry suddenly said, pointing his wand at the _Prophet_.

It burst into flames, turning the newspaper into a shriveled, charred mess. Harry waved his wand again, Vanishing it. And with one glance at his friends, Harry marched out of the room, slamming the door to Ron's bedroom shut.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi guys! I hope you're liking the story so far! I think this is the chapter where it gets better. :) Please keep reading! Thank you! I forgot this in the last chapter, but I STILL don't own anything! And because I forgot last time, I'll say it again: I OWN NOTHING. I wish I did though. Oh, well. JKR is awesome. :)**

Chapter 4

"Harry, come out."

Harry glanced at the bushy-haired girl standing in the doorway for a moment before returning to his game with his snitch. He let it fly for a few seconds, and then snatched it out of the air before it drifted too far.

"Harry, answer me at least. Come _out_."

"No thanks, Hermione," he said, feeling at the cool metal beneath his fingertips as he grabbed at the tiny golden ball again.

Hermione walked into the room and promptly sat down beside him on the bed.

"We're going to Diagon Alley today, and you better be coming," she said firmly. "Ginny is getting a new dress, and she wants your opinion."

Harry's stomach lurched at the mention of Ginny. At that moment, Ron appeared in the doorway, frowning. He walked in and sat next to his girlfriend on the bed, turning to face his best friend.

"This is my room y'know," he said. "I can kick you out."

"Then do it," Harry replied nonchalantly, glancing over at him.

Ron sighed.

"I'm not going to," he admitted. "But only if you come to Diagon Alley with us today, mate. You need to stop moping around my house…it's making everyone upset. Besides, Kingsley cleared everything up. Didn't you see the new article?"

Harry caught the snitch one final time, closing his hand around it.

"It's not going to change anything," he said, fully turning around face his friends. "It already got everyone thinking. It even got _me _thinking. Why should I be called the Savior? I messed everything up. I…I don't know what's rubbish and what isn't anymore."

"It's all rubbish!" Hermione burst out vehemently. "None of that is true! Your speech was lovely, you care so much about everyone…what upsets me is that you're actually believing those reporters!"

"Hermione I said myself I didn't know what my place was," Harry said sincerely. "It certainly isn't a savior. It's definitely not some godly figure that should be admired. I don't deserve to be admired."

"But you kind of do, mate," Ron cut in. "You've done loads for everyone. I kind of admire you as well."

"Me too, Harry," Hermione nodded in agreement. "Ron's right. You're one of the most inspirational people I know. Don't downplay your achievements."

"I'm not downplaying them!" Harry stood up, releasing the snitch into the air. "I haven't really got any! I didn't kill Voldemort—he killed himself! I didn't comfort hundreds of people who lost loved ones! I didn't do much of anything! All I did was make some damn speech."

"It was a lovely speech," Hermione said meekly, and Harry chose to ignore her.

"You're coming to Diagon Alley," Ron said in a tone so firm that Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not joking around here. You're coming with us. You really need to get out of my room, and Ginny needs to see that you still exist. Be down in the kitchen in ten minutes or I'll come get you. Come on, Hermione."

Hermione looked stunned but followed Ron out of the room. Harry watched him go, surprised. Ron had never told him what to do like that before. Harry rolled his eyes and caught the snitch before it followed them out the door. He might as well go. What would it hurt?

After ten minutes of monotony, Harry ambled out of Ron's bedroom into the Weasley's kitchen. Ron and Hermione smiled at him as he entered, and Ginny threw her arms around him, embracing him in one of her breathtaking hugs. They walked out of the Burrow, heading towards a place where Apparition was safe.

"I've missed you," Ginny said as they walked, looking up into his emerald eyes.

"I've missed you, too," Harry answered honestly, kissing her quickly.

"Oi, the first thing you do when you leave the Burrow doesn't need to include snogging my sister," Ron said semi-seriously.

"Oh, shut up, Ron," Ginny smacked his head. "I haven't been out with Harry since the party."

Harry froze for a second at the mention of the party but shook it off quickly. The four of them grasped hands, and with a quick turn, arrived in Diagon Alley. Unlike several months ago, the streets were bustling with witches and wizards doing their shopping. But there was one key difference that pained Harry. In every shop window were mourning signs, and black curtains were draped in each window. Some shops were closed down due to the owner's death, while others remained open under new management. Harry felt his stomach lurch. He gripped Ginny's hand, fighting the sick feeling that had nearly overcome him.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Harry heard Ron murmur to Hermione. He too must have noticed the black decorations.

"Let's get some new clothes," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "We could all use some new ones."

Harry glanced down at his attire. His shirt wasn't spectacular, with a small rip on the sleeve, and his jeans weren't any better, with a tear in one place and a bloodstain in another. He needed new clothes.

The trio and Ginny walked down the street they had walked down so many times, looking around. Most of the shoppers looked content, and only a few were hunched over in corners, crying.

Yet as they walked, the passerby began to do double takes, and before minutes had passed, the whole alley seemed to know that Harry Potter was there.

Harry simply followed his friends, trying to smile at anyone he made eye contact with. But as he looked over at the passing people, many of them looked away quickly, and a few even glared at him. Most of the people smiled, but Harry focused on the frowning ones and the glaring ones. Guilt consumed him with each dirty look thrown his way, the article from the newspaper surfacing in his mind.

The four friends had almost reached a clothing shop when a middle-aged witch dressed in plum purple robes suddenly stopped them on the street.

"Are you Harry Potter?" she asked Harry, seemingly ignoring the other three.

"Er, yes," Harry nodded.

The witch peered at him.

"I read that article, you know," she said accusingly. "The one in the _Prophet_. My son died in that war! And you glazed right over it in your speech. After he gave his life for you! You should be ashamed of yourself, Potter. I haven't heard a thing that you've done so far. I will not be calling you my savior anytime soon, I hope you know."

With that she glared at him, as if daring him to argue.

"How dare you?" Ginny shrieked. "How dare you say that to him? He risked his life for you, and you chastise him? I heard his speech! I was there, you know. And it was lovely. He recognized everyone that died beautifully. What was he supposed to do, list them all? _You _should be the one ashamed of yourself."

"Ginny, it's fine," Harry said quietly, stepping in front of her. "I'm sorry you feel that way, ma'am. I can assure you I'll be helping in any way I can."

"Well you're not helping enough," the witch spat, turning on her heel and stalking away.

"Don't listen to her, Harry," Hermione said quickly with Ron nodding in the background. "She's one of the few bitter ones. Most people are so grateful for you. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Why didn't she understand that there really wasn't anything he could do yet? Why didn't she understand that he wasn't even eighteen yet? That he was doing the best he could?

They walked down the street further, and Harry looked at the ground, desperately avoiding eye contact with every person passing by. Despite all he had done and all he had faced, he couldn't muster up the courage to look another person who had lost a loved one in the eye. He couldn't stand there and listen to them chastise him from the death of their son, daughter, or whatever relative it was that time. But however much he tried, Harry was stopped on the street on numerous occasions. Some were kind and thanked him, but others were cruel and were clearly too reliant on the _Daily Prophet_, refusing to let him explain himself. And then there were those that bothered Ginny, or brought up Ginny. Those were almost worse.

As time passed, Harry grew angrier and more frustrated with the Wizarding World. He had just saved them, all of them, and half of them had turned against him. What should he have done? Harry couldn't figure it out.

When they arrived at the muggle clothing shop, tensions were running high and Harry felt like he would burst at the drop of a pin. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny spoke calmly and politely, desperate to keep Harry from exploding. Their carefulness, however, only lasted so long.

They entered the shop, the door chime letting out a ring as they entered. They filed in, Hermione first, and Harry last. Harry glanced over at the girl behind the counter whose eyes widened once Harry's eyes met her's.

"Are you Harry Potter?" she asked, her voice quiet yet above a whisper.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I am."

The girl hurried over to them.

"You have to get out," she said quickly. "Get out of the store…now. My mother is—"

Harry didn't get to hear what the girl thought of her mother, but they were able to make their own impression because a stocky brunette in her forties entered the room, her eyes focused on the guests. The girl from behind the counter grimaced and shot Harry an apologetic look, returning to her assigned place in the store.

"Welcome to Mandy's Muggle M—" the woman began, but was cut off when her eyes locked onto Harry's forehead.

"Mum, don't," the girl said quickly, but the woman shot the girl a death glare.

"Harry Potter," the owner said in a silky voice. "The great Harry Potter. Our…what do we call you now? Ah, yes. Our _savior_."

"You really don't need to call me that," Harry said quickly, yet sensed where the conversation was going.

"I know I don't," the woman replied. "And I won't. I don't like you very much, Mr. Potter. My daughter believed in your cause, you see, and stayed back to fight in this bloody war. She was in Gryffindor, so she was brave, and she was underage, but she stayed to fight. And she was killed, killed by the Death Eaters trying to find _you. _You, who wouldn't reveal yourself until midnight. You, who cost hundreds of people their lives that night. If you, Harry Potter, had been faster, my daughter might have still been here today! My daughter might have actually lived to graduate from Hogwarts! And then you don't even have the decency to answer the reporters at the party? You stand there, kissing your girlfriend over here, and you don't even answer questions. The least you could have done was spend the party hours acknowledging the dead, making apologies, doing something for those that have died instead of briefly mentioning a monument that will be built Merlin knows when! You, Harry Potter, are a _disgrace_. You're not a Savior…you're a _fake_."

Harry stared at the woman for a moment, boiling with rage. His friends seemed speechless, and he could feel Ginny shaking with anger beside him. Harry's eyes narrowed. Why was he even tolerating this anymore? He was of age, he could do anything he wanted. He could leave.

"You know what?" he said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. "I'm done."

And with a crack, Harry was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading my fanfic; it really means a lot to me! :) Reviews are always extremely appreciated, and when you review my story, I will review one of yours! Even if you don't like this, please review and tell me what I can do to improve it! Also, if you have any suggestions, you are free to tell me them, and depending on the suggestion, I may take it! Any kind of suggestions are always appreciated as well. :) Anyways, I own nothing related to Harry Potter! Enjoy!**

Chapter 5

Harry walked down the street, fuming. His pace was brisk and at times he felt as if he was going faster than the London traffic. The sky was a bright blue but did not reflect Harry's mood by any means. He scowled, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his eyes darting around.

He knew London wasn't the best place to go if he wanted to escape, but it was the first place that crossed his mind, and getting out of the muggle clothing store was most important at the moment than getting out of England. But the latter was exactly what he planned to do.

Harry thought over possible plans, comparing his options. If he wanted all of his belongings, he would have to go back to the Burrow, which would not turn out well. Ron, Hermione or Ginny would stop him... Ginny. Harry shook himself mentally. No, he would not think of Ginny. Escaping the pain was more important than developing his relationship at this point.

He continued down the streets until he approached more familiar ones, eventually arriving at Grimmauld Place. He walked down the road until he finally reached eleven and thirteen where he made number twelve appear before him. Harry hurried up the steps, glancing nervously around, and slipped inside.

_"Hominum revelio," _Harry murmured, remembering the spell Hermione had used months ago.

Nothing happened. He was alone.

Still, Harry stepped forward with a sense of caution, his wand at the ready. The floorboards creaked under his weight, but he heard no other sounds. He loosened up a bit but kept a tight hold on his wand.

Harry made his way into a bedroom. He had planned to move into the house eventually, once he gathered the courage and willpower to leave the Weasleys. A rucksack lay untouched on the bed, filled with several pairs of jeans, a few shirts, and a handful of socks and underwear. It would be enough to last a few days at least.

Harry glanced around. A couple of books were placed on a side table, and various knickknacks were strewn around the room. As his eyes roamed over the room, Harry realized that he didn't truly need much of anything. He didn't have much of anything, after all. The only important belongings he would need to take would be some clothing, a book or two, his photo album, a few special tchotchkes, and of course some money.

And of course, he would have to leave a note.

Harry sank onto his bed, putting his face in his hands. He didn't want to run away. He didn't want to leave England, his friends, and his girlfriend behind. But the press was ridiculous, and some people were almost worse. He couldn't walk out on the street without getting harassed. And things were only bound to get worse once the Death Eaters started getting their revenge. It was best to leave the country, and lead the Death Eaters out while simultaneously avoiding harassment.

"What am I doing?" Harry asked himself out loud.

He didn't know the answer.

Harry's thoughts drifted. What would Dumbledore think? What would Dumbledore suggest? Harry rolled his eyes. Dumbledore would probably say something philosophical and let Harry interpret it for himself. But Dumbledore was dead, along with hundreds of others...

A tear trickled from Harry's face, one of the only ones he shed since the Battle of Hogwarts. He wiped it away furiously, but his desperation not to cry seemed to lead him into tears even faster. The tears spilled out of his eyes quickly, drenching his face in a warm, salty solution. Harry tugged at his hair, sniffling, wiping his wet eyes.

Harry got up and left the room, searching for a mirror. He found one in another room and peered into it. His emerald eyes were surrounded with red, bloodshot. His nose was red and slightly puffy, as were his lips. Harry sniffled, wiping away the wet remnants.

"I look pathetic," he muttered to himself. After all, no one else was there. "You're so weak, Potter. You're pathetic. You're running away."

Harry stared at his reflection, pondering his own words. He was running away, fleeing. It didn't seem like a very Gryffindor thing to do. But he had been brave all his life. It was time for a break.

Fresh tears leaked out of Harry's eyes. Frustrated, Harry slammed his fist into the glass mirror, shattering it. The shards pierced his skin, blood dripping from the wound. The sight of the blood sickened Harry, which was something that usually didn't happen. He had seen so much blood, and never had he felt ill. Yet with as the blood emerged so did memories…painful memories.

Dizziness overwhelmed him and he leaned against the wall, steadying himself. Fred was consumed by an explosion, falling under the rubble; Remus and Tonks lied side by side, their hands almost touching; the knife pierced through Dobby and blood spurted out as the elf said his last words; Moody fell from a broom, falling to his death; Hedwig was struck by green light; Dumbledore tumbled off the tower; Sirius passed through the veil; Cedric collapsed on the floor; his mother died right before his one-year-old eyes.

Harry sank to the floor, shaking. So many had died because of him. Maybe the press and the people were right. Maybe he had caused the death of all those innocent people. Maybe it would be better to simply fade away.

As he stood up, Harry wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to leave. He would write a quick note, a quite apology and then—

"HARRY! HARRY!"

Harry cursed under his breath, but that was enough to send pounding footsteps heading his way. He would have to face whoever it was, although he had a pretty clear idea of who it might be.

"Harry."

Ginny came from around the corner and Harry continued to stand there, his mind blank. He didn't know what to say to her. He had to tell her, but she would try to stop him. So he remained silent.

"Harry, oh Merlin, are you all right?" Ginny asked softly, walking up to him, wiping away the wetness around his eyes. "You've been crying. Oh, Harry."

She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back comfortingly. Try as he might, Harry couldn't help but succumb to tears once more. They ran freely down his face, dripping onto Ginny's bright red hair.

"Harry, it's okay," Ginny said soothingly. "That witch was completely awful. Ron, Hermione and I put her in her place; don't worry. None of what she said is true in any way. You're wonderful, Harry. You can cry if you like, but you shouldn't have to. What she said is terrible, but it couldn't be farther from the truth."

Harry listened to her words but didn't believe them. He continued to sob into her hair, and Ginny continued to rub his back and mutter comforting words into his ear. After a few minutes, Harry pulled away and wiped his eyes, a bit embarrassed.

And suddenly, the embarrassment turned to shame, which made him want to cry and shout and beat himself up all at once. There Ginny was, comforting _him_. He, who had been the cause for her brother's death. Ginny, who had just lost a brother, was playing the role of the comforter instead of the comfortee. Harry couldn't have felt worse.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," he said. "I am so, so sorry."

"Harry, you are not to blame! You're doing everything you can! You said yourself you knew that! And only a few hours ago too!"

Harry bit his lip. He _had _thought that. But now he didn't. Did he? Harry paced a bit in frustration. He was going insane. He didn't know what to think of himself anymore. Was everyone judging him unfairly? Or was he truly to blame?

"I think…I need some time away," he said suddenly. "I don't think I can handle this anymore."

Though Ginny tried to hide it, Harry heard her gasp.

"W-What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm going to leave," Harry stated firmly, finally feeling sure of something that he said. "I'm going to leave England. I…I don't know when I'll be back. I need to be someone other than myself for a while. Or find out who I am without all this. I…I don't really know. But I need to leave."

"But you can't leave, Harry!" Ginny protested. "You can't let everyone get to you. You've faced so much worse than this…this should be _nothing _compared to what you've faced!"

"Well maybe I don't want to face it anymore!" Harry said angrily, his temper rising. "Maybe I don't want to be in the paper everyday! Maybe I don't want to be blamed and accused for everything that happened in the war! Maybe I just want some time to myself where I can walk down the damn street without getting stopped and harassed!"

"Harry—"

"WHY CAN'T I HAVE A NORMAL LIFE, HUH? WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO PUT UP WITH EVERYTHING? WHY CAN'T I JUST RELAX FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE? YOU KNOW WHY ALL THIS STUFF IS IMPOSSIBLE? BECAUSE NO ONE WILL EFFING LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M LEAVING, GINNY. I'M LEAVING! I'M SICK OF MAGIC."

Harry ended his tirade, his eyes darkening several shades.

Ginny simply stared up at him, and though tears threatened to break through her eyes, she held them in with a few blinks.

"But…but Harry," she said quietly. "What about the Wizarding World? What about your friends? What about me? What about your promise?"

Harry took a deep breath to keep from shouting again. He felt bad, but not bad enough to apologize.

"I've had plenty of promises broken," he said. "I've faced loads of disappointment. It's time everyone else faces some too."

With that the he marched back to his room to gather up his belongings. He didn't have much, and was able to carry everything with him all at once. As he was picking up his clothing bag, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. It was Ginny.

He turned to look at her, and immediately wished he hadn't. She was so beautiful, so incredible, so perfect, and he was leaving her. Leaving everything. He knew she wouldn't take him back after this, but what other choice did he have? Stay in England and tolerate it all? That certainly wasn't an option. Besides, he thought, Ginny would be able to find someone more emotionally stable, someone who would be able to care for her without dissolving into fits of guilt or post-traumatic stress.

"I can't, Ginny," he said quietly. "I can't."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn't even bother to wipe them away as they trickled down her face.

"Please, Harry," she begged, grabbing his hands. "Don't leave me again. I love you. I need you here. Please. We can work this out. We can fix everything. It will all be okay. Please, just stay here."

Harry gently pulled his hands out of her's and shook his head solemnly.

"I can't, Ginny," he repeated. "I…you have no idea how much I wish I would stay. I love you…I really, really love you, but I can't stay here. I can't stay in England. I have to go. It's time to start over."

"Start over here!" Ginny argued. "You can start anew here! So many people are. I mean, look at Draco Malfoy! He was let off so easily, and he's starting his life over now. Please, Harry, the press will stop eventually."

"When, Ginny? When will it stop?" Harry questioned. "Never. It's never going to stop. I've been written about since I was a baby up until now, and it's only getting worse. They're calling me the Savior, and the anti-Savior. They're praising me more than I deserve, and they're blaming me for the entire war. I can't go through this, Ginny. I can't be the Boy Who Lived anymore. I have to just be…Harry."

Fresh tears spilled from Ginny's eyes and she shook her head, but seemed to give up reasoning with him. Harry wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. As he pulled away, he placed a kiss on her lips before pulling away for good. He smiled at her sadly, and a moment later, he Apparated into his new life.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading my story; I really appreciate it! And a special thank you to everyone who has been reviewing my story! The reviews really mean a lot to me, and they keep me writing! Anyway, here's the next chapter. I don't own Harry Potter. Hope you like it! :)**

Chapter 6

Harry drew the black traveling cloak around himself, putting the hood over his head. Harry wasn't a fan of black, hooded cloaks (they reminded him of Death Eaters), but it was necessary. There was no way he was going to walk through Diagon Alley again without some sort of disguise.

He carried his bags with him, and immediately wished he had asked Hermione for the spell she put on her beaded bag. Or that he had thought the plan through a bit more and went back for his things later. But it was too late now. There was no turning back.

Harry hurried down the street, arriving at the marble entrance of Gringotts. The rebuilding of the wizard bank had been accomplished quickly, and Gringotts stood as grandly as it had the day Harry first went there with Hagrid.

Harry went inside, walking along the cool, marble floor. His footsteps echoed in the hall, which was surprisingly empty compared to the crowds bustling about Diagon Alley. Harry made his way to one of the available goblins and put his key on the table.

"I'd like to get inside my vault, please," he said.

The goblin peered down at him, and his narrows eyes widened when Harry brushed aside his bangs. Even in the darkened cloak, the scar was visible, and was his trademark.

"Certainly," the goblin nodded. "Right away, Mr. Potter."

Another goblin led him down into the vaults on another rollercoaster ride. Harry arrived at his vault at looked inside once the goblin opened it. He hadn't entered in a few years, and had forgotten just how much money his parents had left him.

Harry pulled out a bag and began filling it with galleons. He didn't want to come back to Gringotts for a while, if it was possible. He shoved fistfuls of the golden coins into his bag until he thought it would break from the weight of it all. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw the goblin watching him, a curious look in his eye. Harry finished quickly and tied up his bag.

Once back in the main area of the bank, Harry approached another goblin behind the desk.

"Excuse me," Harry said, checking his watch. He didn't have long.

The goblin's eyes widened when he caught sight of Harry. Immediately, the goblin put down his quill and turned his full attention to the savior of the Wizarding World.

"I need to convert all this," Harry heaved his bag onto the table, "into muggle money."

The goblin frowned.

"I'm afraid that will take a day or so, Mr. Potter," the goblin said. "We need to process—"

"I need it immediately," Harry said quickly. "As in, right now. Will that be possible?"

The goblin stared at him a moment, and then slowly nodded his head.

"It is possible," he confirmed. "Wait a few moments."

Harry nodded and waited as the goblin teetered away, struggling under the sack of money's weight.

Harry checked his watch every thirty seconds. Time was moving ahead at a fast pace. The longer he stayed in Gringotts, or Diagon Alley, or even the Wizarding World, the greater chance he had of being recognized, or stopped. Or worse…having second thoughts.

After what seemed like hours to Harry, the goblin came back. He opened the sack, revealing the British muggle money rather than the golden coins of wizards. Harry nodded and thanked the goblin, taking the much lighter sack.

"How much does it come to in muggle money?" he asked.

"Approximately seven hundred thousand pounds," the goblin replied.

"All right, thank you," Harry said, and with a small smile, walked away.

As he exited the bank, Harry could feel the eyes of the goblin on him. It was a strange request, after all. To take out an enormous sum of money was unlike him, and then to have it converted to muggle money was even more bizarre, especially since the only muggles Harry knew were his aunt and uncle, who he was never going to return to.

As Harry headed towards the post office, worry washed over him. What if, he thought to himself, the goblin talks to the _Prophet_? What if they realize I'm running away?

Panicked for only a moment, Harry quickly calmed himself down. So what if the _Prophet _slammed his name? He was leaving England, and leaving the Wizarding World. He would never hear of the stupid _Daily Prophet _ever again, and would never have to read another article about himself either.

Harry finally arrived at the post office. He bought a sheet of parchment and borrowed a quill from a man behind the counter before heading to a table to write on. Harry smoothed out the parchment and held the quill over the top of the page, ready to write the letter.

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

He stared at the greeting, not knowing what to say next. Which was better, being blunt or being tactful?

With a deep breath, Harry dipped his quill in the ink well and scrawled out the rest of the letter:

_Though Ginny may have told you this already, I've decided to leave England, and the Wizarding World altogether. Don't get me wrong, I love England, and I love magic…but I'm sick of them both for the time being. I need to go away for a while. I need to go away to escape the press, and to escape the people. I'm being pressured into thinking I'm a Savior, and I'm being pressured into thinking I'm to blame for the whole war. And I'm starting to believe both sides. I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but to find that truth I need to leave. Along with finding the truth, I need to find myself. I don't know who I am without Voldemort, as strange as that sounds. For seventeen years I've been Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Now I'm going to just be Harry Potter, myself._

_ I don't want to do this, really. But I know I have to. I want to stay, I want to help, and I want to be with you both and Ginny. But I can't. I've realized that this is the only way to keep me sane, and I need to stay sane. I want you both to know that you're the best friends I've ever had. I honestly love you, and you're both going to have the best futures. You may not consider me your best friend anymore after this letter, but I'll always consider both of you my best friends, no matter what happens._

_ I may write while I'm gone, but I may not. Don't expect a letter, but don't be surprised if you receive one from me. I don't know when I'll be back, but it won't be for several years. If I do come back…well…we'll see what happens then. I just want you both to know I'm forever indebted to both of you for everything you've done for me over the years, and I love you. Thank you for everything._

_ Love,_

_ Harry_

Wiping a tear away from his eye, Harry signed the letter and folded it up. He didn't want to leave Ron and Hermione. The only life without them had been at the Dursleys, and that had not been a pleasant experience. With them, life was better. Though Voldemort threatened to take away whatever happiness the Harry had, when Ron and Hermione were there, everything was better.

Now it was time to see what life was like without them.

Harry slipped the parchment in an envelope and scrawled the Burrow's address on the front of it.

"Can one of your owls take this to the address here? I don't need a reply." Harry told the man working there.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," he nodded. "It will arrive shortly."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, exiting the store.

He emerged into the bright sunlight, and immediately regretted wearing a dark, heavy cloak. Children ran by him, playing in the street with their brooms and joke toys. Middle-aged witches strolled past, gossiping about the latest style of dress robes. Teenagers lounged around by the shop windows, simply hanging out and talking. A pain ran through Harry. What would he have been doing if he hadn't been running away?

At that moment, Harry almost went back into Gringotts to return all the money had taken out. He almost went back into the post office to stop the owl from delivering his letter. He almost dumped all his belongings back into the bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place. But he didn't, because at that moment, a group of witches and wizards walked right by him.

"—not even a true Savior, what has he been doing?" one of the witches was saying.

"I don't know why we worship him," a wizard remarked. "It's completely unnecessary."

"So many lives lost because of that boy," another wizard piped up. "It's shameful really, how we desperately try to save one boy's life and so many others die."

Harry watched them walk by, not knowing whether to hex them or to frantically apologize. He let them go, and turned the other way. No, it was time to go. It was time to leave England, to leave the Wizarding World. It was time to find his place in the aftermath.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello again everyone! I've had a lotttt of free time today, so I decided to post another chapter! Tomorrow I'm going to be super busy though, so I probably won't post anything tomorrow, so I guess two chapters today will make up for that. Anyways, thanks so much for all your reviews! I appreciate them so much and I love to hear what you all have to say! Remember, even if you don't like my story, just say so! I still like reading it and improving. So...yeah! I don't own Harry Potter, but I love Harry Potter. And JK Rowling. And Daniel Radcliffe. But I'll stop now and let you read. Hope you like it! :)**

Chapter 7

"RON! RON!"

Ginny dashed through the front door of the Burrow, shouting her brother's name. She checked the kitchen first, as she knew of her brother's love for food, yet when she did not find him there, her footsteps thundered up the stairs to search for him.

They had all split up to look for Harry. Ginny had been assigned Grimmauld Place, and Ron had been assigned the Burrow, while Hermione was off at Hogwarts looking for him there. Ginny cursed under her breath as she opened the door to Ron's empty room. Ron couldn't have possibly searched the entire Burrow already.

Ginny hurried back down the stairs, flinging open the back door. The scanned the garden and kicked a few gnomes aside. Ron wasn't there. Running towards the fields, she finally saw a tuft of red hair, and quickened her pace. She stumbled forward once she reached him, gasping for air.

"I…found…Harry," she gasped out, trying to catch her breath.

Ron's eyes widened.

"What? Where? Where is he?"

Ginny shook her head as she regained her breath.

"He's…he's…not here," she continued to shake her head as if refusing to believe what had just happened. "He's…gone."

Ron looked stunned as Ginny look up at him.

"Hang on," he said slowly. "He's…gone? Where did he go? Where did you find him? Why didn't you stop him?"

Ginny bit her lip and tugged on her hair to keep herself from crying again.

"It's a bit of a story," she said. "Come on, let's go get Hermione and I'll tell you both."

Ron nodded in agreement and the two Weasley siblings Apparated outside of Hogwarts. The castle was still mostly in ruins, its turrets collapsing and other parts crumbling away. Teams of trained witches and wizards worked diligently, attempting to restore the castle to its original state. Ginny followed her brother through the crowds of workers, searching for Hermione.

"There she is!" Ginny cried out, spotting a mane of bushy brown hair.

They ran in that direction, and Ron grabbed her hand once they reached her.

"You found him?" Hermione said expectantly, looking from one Weasley to the other.

"Sort of," Ginny nodded. "I found him, but…"

"But what?" Hermione asked, and Ginny had a feeling Hermione already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Ron said in agreement with Hermione, "I want to hear this story."

"All right," Ginny nodded. "I'll make it quick. I went to Grimmauld Place, and I saw Harry there, and he was…he was…"

She paused. Did Harry want her to tell Ron and Hermione that he had been crying? Or was that something that she should keep to herself? Harry didn't like to show his emotions, after all.

"He was what?" Hermione pressed.

"He was very upset," Ginny glazed over the matter. "He was very conflicted, as he has been lately. He's thinking everything is his fault, but he's also so confused about it…the papers are getting to him, in both ways, and it's awful how conflicted he's feeling. So I tried to tell him that nothing was his fault, that's he's wonderful, but you know how he never listens to us. You know how stubborn Harry is. So…he's leaving. I don't know where he's going, but he said he'd be going out of the country. He says he wants to start life over…where he's not the Boy Who Lived…but just himself."

Ron and Hermione stared at Ginny, their mouths hanging open.

"What?" Hermione said.

"It's true," Ginny said sadly. "I…I was confused too."

"But…but he can't leave!" Hermione protested, and a frantic, uncontrolled look appeared in her eye that Ginny had only seen a few times. Tears sprang up, too. "He's Harry! He can't go! He's…he's…what?"

"I know," Ginny shook her head. "I don't completely get it either."

"Calm down, Hermione," Ron said, putting his arm around her. "It'll be okay. We'll figure this out."

Hermione nodded, wiping away the beginnings of tears. She took a deep breath, regaining her control.

"So he really said that?" Ron asked Ginny, and she nodded.

"That's so unlike him," Hermione mused, tapping her chin with her fingertips. "And yet it's completely like him. I don't know what to make of this! He…he…oh Merlin, he is so stubborn."

"I know," Ginny nodded. "I must have told him he's wonderful at least five times, but he still doesn't believe me."

Hermione frowned, pacing now.

"I feel like there's something he's not telling us," she said slowly. "Something he's feeling, probably. You know how he keeps us in the dark about his feelings. Or at least, he keeps Ron and I in the dark. He probably tells you more than he tells us."

"He…I told you both everything he told me," Ginny said. "He's keeping me in the dark as well. I do think that he might not be feeling quite emotionally stable. He's going back and forth between devastation and anger."

Hermione paused in her pacing.

"That could be it," she murmured.

"What could be it?" Ron asked, and Ginny nodded in agreement with her brother's question.

"You said he's not feeling emotionally stable, right?" Hermione asked, directing the question at Ginny.

Ginny nodded.

"Well," Hermione continued on, "who does Harry care about the most?"

"I suppose…us," Ron suggested, and Hermione nodded.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "He lost all of his family, so he cares for us as much as he would care for a family, if he had one. And you, Ginny, he loves you, so you're probably at the top of his list, and Ron and I are probably right under you. So, Harry's the type to always put those he cares about before himself, which means he's concerned for us, and our lives. I think that Harry is facing the whole mentality that we're going to be bothered by the press now that he is, and that we're going to face hard times ahead because he is, because we're close to him. Also, if he's feeling emotionally unstable, he probably doesn't want to lash out at us, and for you, Ginny, he probably thinks you deserve the best, and he's not considering himself to be the best right now."

"Hermione…you're a genius," Ron said simply. "Honestly."

She blushed a bit, but shrugged off his comment.

"It was nothing, really," she said. "I could be wrong, though. Harry's so difficult to understand."

"Well," Ron said after the three stood there in silence for a moment, "what are we going to do?"

"We're going to bring him back, of course!" Hermione stated immediately.

"We have to be careful about it," Ginny added quickly. "We don't know where he is, and we can't just barge in and demand that he return, because he's not going to listen to that. We need to think of something a bit cleverer, and a bit subtler. Harry isn't easily persuaded by speeches and lectures."

"I think you're right," Hermione nodded. "We're going to have to _show _him that he belongs here, that we, and everyone else, wants him here. _How _we're going to do that, however, is a whole other matter..."

"Where is he, anyway?" Ron asked his sister.

Ginny shook her head and shrugged.

"I have no idea," she said. "He wouldn't tell me. Not that I really asked, but I was a bit preoccupied with trying to get him not to go at all. He said he wanted to start over, away from the war, away from magic, so I'm assuming that means some muggle place. Some muggle place not in England."

Hermione sat down on a boulder nearby, lost in concentration.

"He wouldn't go anywhere in UK," she said somewhat to herself, somewhat to her two companions. "That would be too close. He probably wouldn't go anywhere immediately nearby, either, because people there are bound to have heard about the war. Do you know if he knows any other languages, Ginny?"

"Not that I know of," Ginny shook her head. "I don't see when he would have learned them."

"All right," Hermione nodded. "So it would probably be an English speaking country then. There's Australia, the United States, New Zealand, various African countries, India, and various tropical islands. Any ideas?"

"Somehow I feel that Australia, the United States, and New Zealand would be easier to live in than the others," Ginny suggested. "It's a more similar culture, and there's a lot of people there."

"Right," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Hmm. We might as well go the Burrow and think about it."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny clasped hands and turned on the spot, arriving at the Burrow. They walked inside, and as they entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley stood there, cooking something on the stove.

"Hello dears," she said with a bit more happiness than her voice had lately. "Ron, Hermione, you've both got a letter."

Ginny could tell it took all her brother and her friend's willpower to not bolt over to her mother and snatch up the letter. Hermione walked over with forced calmness, and thanked Mrs. Weasley for holding the letter for them.

"Where's Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"He's out," Ginny said honestly. "He's at his house, doing some stuff there."

Mrs. Weasley nodded understandably, returning to the simmering pot.

"We'll be upstairs, mum," Ginny said as they began to hurry up the steps. "We'll be down to help you with dinner soon!"

Ginny paused for a moment to hear her mother's agreeable reply before she dashed up the staircase behind Ron and Hermione. They ran all the way up to Ron's room, plopping down on the bed to read the letter that she thought was surely from Harry.

"Open it," Ron said eagerly as Hermione tore open the envelope, not saving it as she usually did with letters.

"It's a letter," she said quickly.

"Well obviously," Ron rolled his eyes. "What does it say?"

"Shh, I'm getting to that," Hermione glared at him.

"Well hurry up, I'm getting impatient," Ron replied.

"You're _always _impatient," Hermione shot back, but then turned her attention to the letter. "_Dear Ron and Hermione…_"

She read the letter aloud, "_Though Ginny may have told you this already, I've decided to leave England, and the Wizarding World altogether. Don't get me wrong, I love England, and I love magic…but I'm sick of them both for the time being. I need to go away for a while. I need to go away to escape the press, and to escape the people. I'm being pressured into thinking I'm a Savior, and I'm being pressured into thinking I'm to blame for the whole war. And I'm starting to believe both sides. I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but to find that truth I need to leave. Along with finding the truth, I need to find myself. I don't know who I am without Voldemort, as strange as that sounds. For seventeen years I've been Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Now I'm going to just be Harry Potter, myself."_

Hermione paused for a moment, biting her lip hard to stop her eyes from tearing up. She took a breath and continued.

_ "I don't want to do this, really. But I know I have to. I want to stay, I want to help, and I want to be with you both and Ginny. But I can't. I've realized that this is the only way to keep me sane, and I need to stay sane. I want you both to know that you're the best friends I've ever had. I honestly love you, and you're both going to have the best futures. You may not consider me your best friend anymore after this letter, but I'll always consider both of you my best friends, no matter what happens._

_ "I may write while I'm gone, but I may not. Don't expect a letter, but don't be surprised if you receive one from me. I don't know when I'll be back, but it won't be for several years. If I do come back…well…we'll see what happens then. I just want you both to know I'm forever indebted to both of you for everything you've done for me over the years, and I love you. Thank you for everything. Love, Harry."_

She finally finished, her voice trailing off at the end of his name. Hermione dabbed her eyes with her shirt, sniffling. Ron pulled her close to him, and Ginny rubbed her back. After a few moments, Hermione regained her composure and pulled away from the two Weasleys.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, staring at the letter in her hands. "What are you doing?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay so I lied. But I didn't mean to! I siriusly thought I was going to be super busy today. But I'm not! So here's another chapter. Thank you for all your reviews, I really appreciate them all! Hope you like this chapter! :)**

Chapter 8

Harry held out the piece of parchment in front of him as he walked through the small town. He had only one thing to do before he boarded a plane that would leave him out of his current life.

It was different here in the summer, he concluded. The sun shone beautifully, illuminating the town with light and a sense of happiness. Several children played in the street, and Harry could have sworn that he had seen the broom they were playing with levitate. A genuine smile spread across his face, for the first time in what felt like ages.

Harry moved forward, determined to get where he was going quickly. Though he had only visited once, he knew the way like he knew the back of his hand.

Finally, he stopped. The familiar house lied before him in ruins, the monument standing proudly in front. A surge of sadness coursed through him and he turned away. He couldn't shed any more tears. He was weak enough.

Harry passed the house, making his way to the graveyard. As he approached, the small, gray stones seemed to run across the grass, all in perfect formation. He walked inside and saw no one. He was alone again.

He passed through without stopping, only occasionally glancing at a name as he walked by. He knew where he had to go. He knew the stone, even though he had only seen it once in his life. Once, in the sixteen years it had been there. And now, there it was again.

Harry approached, and sank to his knees, kneeling in front of the grave, staring at the two names engraved upon the stone. James Potter, Lily Potter. With a swish of his wand he conjured a bouquet of flowers containing an abundance of lilies, placing them at the base of the stone. Lilies seemed fitting. They symbolized virtue, and Harry couldn't think of anything more virtuous than dying in someone else's place.

He reached out his hand to touch the stone, a bit afraid to do so. Was it rude to touch a gravestone? Harry didn't know, but he extended his arm, and after deliberation, laid his hand on the cool, hard stone, wishing that he could somehow feel some connection to his parents through it. A simple word of encouragement, a comforting hug, anything. To Harry it didn't matter what they would do, it just mattered that they would do something.

Harry drew his hand away, and a feeling of shame washed over him. Tears sprang to his eyes but he fought them back, staring at the names carved into the gray stone.

"You wouldn't be proud of me now," Harry said quietly. "I'm so pathetic. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic. I'm sorry."

He bowed his head, his hands shaking. Taking a deep breath, Harry looked at his parents' grave again.

"I don't want to disappoint you," he spoke up again. "I don't want you to be disappointed with me. I know what I'm doing now is…pathetic, and stupid, and…I don't even know what else, but I can't stay here. I can't stay in the Wizarding World. Mum…Dad…I don't even know who I am. I only know who I am through Voldemort and…I want to know who I am without him. I want to know what a normal life would have been like, and I can't figure that out here. I want to know what life was like when I was a baby, before all of this happened. Before I was the Boy Who Lived, before I knew magic, before I had to defeat Voldemort…before you both died."

Harry let a tear fall from his eyes, watching it splatter onto the earth in front of the stone. Frustration overwhelmed him and he tugged his hair, running his hand over his face.

"Why aren't you with me?" Harry blurted out before he realized what he was saying. "Why aren't you helping me? I need help. I don't know what to do. I don't want to go away, but I don't want to stay here. I want to go back to my bedroom in Godric's Hollow, with both of you, just playing on my toy broomstick. Why did you trust Wormtail? Why did you die for me? Why is this happening to me? Why aren't you still here? Why aren't you here with me?"

Harry collapsed onto his hands and knees, the grave swimming before him in his watery vision. He stayed there for a while, fighting to hold back tears while a few managed to slip through. After what could have been several hours (and felt like it, based on the soreness in his arms), Harry straightened up, kneeling again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as a rush of guilt surged through his heart. "I didn't mean to say that. I just…I miss you."

His arm extended out and he touched the stone gently, closing his eyes. Harry inhaled slowly, and opened his eyes as he exhaled. Nothing was going to change.

He stood up, his legs tired and cramped from kneeling for hours. He took his cloak off and stowed it away in the bag before leaving the graveyard, turning back one final time to glance at his parents' grave. It was time to go.

When Harry entered the airport, he couldn't have felt more confused. Muggles were rushing around, lugging pieces of luggage, holding onto their kids, yelling at each other to get the tickets out. Harry knew what planes were, but he had never been on one. The Dursleys would never have taken him on an overseas vacation. Plane tickets cost money, and Harry wasn't worth it.

Harry held the tiny scrap of paper in his hand, attempting to figure it out. Most of it seemed fairly straightforward.

After queuing for an hour or so, Harry finally arrived at a waiting area with plenty of empty seats all arranged near a doorway that Harry assumed was the door to get onto the plane.

Harry frowned as he sat in one of the blue leather seats, looking around at the mildly gray walls, plastered with advertisements. Somehow, the airport wasn't as satisfying as King's Cross Station. It wasn't as magical.

But that's what you wanted, Harry thought to himself.

He bit his lip. Was this the right choice?

Harry pushed aside the thought. It didn't matter anymore. He was going away to start over, and that was the way it was going to be. He already had his plane ticket, his belongings, and seven hundred thousand pounds stowed in his bag. He had everything he needed.

Except Ginny.

The thought crossed his mind so immediately that Harry was taken aback. He shook his head. No, he didn't need Ginny. Ginny deserved someone better, someone safer, someone more emotionally stable so that she could grieve for her brother properly. She didn't need someone who was falling apart every five minutes.

Harry sat there patiently, waiting for the plane to open. More people came, filling up the seats around him. He was jealous. Most of them were simply going on vacation or getting a new business opportunity. None of them seemed to be fleeing.

A voice sounded from overhead, telling the people waiting to line up and board the plane. Harry listened to the voice from the speakers, filing into a line with the others waiting around him. It progressed slowly, but eventually Harry stepped through the doorway onto the metal piece of aircraft.

He chose one of the first seats he saw, a spot wedged between a sleeping middle-aged man and a knitting elderly woman. Not trusting the plane completely, Harry shrank his belongings and stowed them away in his pocket. He slipped his wand into his sleeve, just in case a quick _Wingardium Leviosa _was needed.

The plane filled quickly, and Harry took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

"We're all clear for take off," a voice from overhead said. "Please buckle up and enjoy the flight to Australia."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi guys! This is chapter 9 of the story, so I hope you like it! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story...I'm so surprised so many people have, so thank you! And an even specialer (more special?) thank you to those who have reviewed! Thanks to those who have been reading since Chapter 1, and those newcomers as well! :) Hope you like chapter 9!**

Chapter 9

"Let's see," Hermione said, spreading out a huge map on the Weasley kitchen table. "We have three possible places that Harry could be."

Neville, Luna, and the entire Weasley family crowded around Hermione and the map, peering at the red lightning bolts on Australia, the United States, and New Zealand.

"What about Canada?" Luna piped up.

Ron cursed.

"Ron!" Hermione frowned at him. "There's no need for that. We'll just add another scar."

She waved her wand and an imitation of Harry's famous scar appeared on the uppermost part of the North American continent.

"There's one more bloody place we have to look," Ron muttered.

"He's your best friend," Ginny said gently.

"I know," Ron replied hastily. "And I'll search for him till I die. But he's just so bloody stubborn."

"I know," Ginny smiled a bit. "Try being his girlfriend."

"I'm all right, thanks," Ron said, and Ginny laughed for the first time since Harry had gone.

"Hush up you two and listen to Hermione," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "You were saying, dear?"

"It's all right, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said dismissively. "Anyway, Harry could be in Canada, Australia, the United States, or New Zealand…and I'm not quite certain which one he's going to."

"Well Australia is the farthest," Neville suggested. "You said he wanted to go away and not have to face all of this, so Australia might know the least about Voldemort and Harry out of all of them."

"Neville's right," Percy nodded, glancing at him. "The United States and Canada are both strong allies of Britain, and often talk to each other, so I'd assume they know about Harry, especially because they're only a trip across the ocean away. And while Australia is a strong ally as well, they're much farther from Britain and might care less about the war over here, as it won't affect them as immediately."

"That's true, Perce," Ginny admitted, "but do you really think Harry would have reasoned that through? He's the type to just think of something and do it."

"He would have, if he truly wanted to get away properly," Percy pointed out.

The group of witches and wizards stood there in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts about where Harry might have gone. Ginny grew frustrated with each possibility, and anger towards Harry surged within her. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

"He might go to the States or Canada because the climate is similar," Bill pointed out. "It would be different in Australia or New Zealand."

"But he may want something different," Luna said. "Isn't that why he is going away after all? For a different life?"

"That doesn't necessarily have to be changed by the climate," Ron argued.

"But it may help," Luna replied.

"Ginny, you know Harry, what would he do?" Hermione turned towards Harry's former girlfriend, a look of desperation in her eyes.

"I…I don't know," Ginny admitted softly, staring at the large expanse of map lain out before them. "I really don't. It's honestly something we never really talked about."

George let out a small laugh.

"No, really," Ginny look around at everyone. "You all assume I know him so well. And I do…but not necessarily _better _than some of you. I just know him differently. I know some things about him better than the rest of you, but things like this…I don't know who would know this. We all know Harry is incredibly confusing to understand, because none of us truly understand what he's been through. But I think we all know different aspects of his personality.

"Ron and Hermione…you're both his best friends. You've known him longest, and you've been closest to him, so you know most of his secrets. Neville, you haven't been as close to Harry, but he entrusted you and believed so strongly in you, so you know him in a different way. Luna, you've taught Harry so much about life, and what it means to live, so you too know him differently. George, Percy, Bill, Charlie…you've shown him what it's like to have family, and Mum and Dad, you've shown him what it's like to have adults who care for him, as would parents.

"See…we all know him so differently, but I think that if we work together we can piece every bit of him together and solve this. …We've got to."

"Well said, Ginny, 'ear 'ear," George joked with a grin.

Ginny and the others couldn't help but laugh and smile. George hadn't cracked a joke since Fred's death.

They all sat there for a while, discussing and debating where Harry could possibly be, each adding their own unique opinions on the matter. After hours of discussion they decided to stop for a break, some going to fix lunch while others simply laid down to rest for a while.

Ginny stared longingly out the window, the sunlight streaming through. She made her way to the door and slipped out, walking across the Burrow's backyard. She ambled across the grass, her hair glowing like fire in the sun's strong rays. She squinted, and, seeing a glimmer in the distance, headed towards it.

She walked toward the pond, its surface rippling despite the lack of wind. The water sparkled in the sunlight, the rays reflecting off, piercing Ginny's eyes. She would have liked to continue to stare, but she looked away, spots of darkness dancing across her vision.

Ginny headed toward the pond, easing herself onto the grass beneath a tree right beside it. She gazed out over the expanse of water, and couldn't help but smile as memories of a tree near a much larger body of water at Hogwarts played in her mind.

"Mind if I join you?"

Ginny wheeled around, staring up into the face of her former twin brother.

"Not at all, George," she replied, patting the earth beside her.

George sat down next to his sister and they both simply gazed out at the small sea for a few minutes, taking in the beauty of the scenery. Finally, Ginny spoke up.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a question she had been longing to bring up.

George had not been himself since Fred's death at the Battle of Hogwarts. His mischievous grin was no longer present, and his eyes had lost their sparkle. It seemed as if a bit of him was missing.

"I will be," George responded honestly. "It's just so hard. He was my other half…literally. And now I don't know what I'm going to do. But I know he wouldn't have wanted me to mope…he would have wanted me to continue the joke shop and continue to cause lots of mischief. But it's hard."

Ginny nodded. She had no idea what George was feeling, but she could imagine it, although she didn't want to.

"What about you?" George piped up again. "Are you all right? Ron told me you two had a thing last year."

"I'm fine," Ginny said. "This has kind of happened before. But I'll be okay. Like you said…it's just hard."

Ginny looked up at her brother. They were so similar to her, both of them, Fred and George. Ginny smiled, and reached up, wrapping her arms around George. George smiled too and hugged Ginny in return. They remained that way for a few minutes, until Ginny pulled away.

"Do you blame him?" Ginny managed to blurt out, the question she had been dying to ask since the battle.

"Oh God, no!" George hastily replied. "Not at all. Harry…Harry is great. He's incredible. I love that kid…he's like a brother, Ginny. And it's not his fault at all. Fred knew what he was getting into. We all did. Besides, it wasn't just Harry we were fighting for. So no, I don't see it as his fault, and I can guarantee Fred wouldn't have either."

Ginny was silent a moment. She hadn't truly thought that George would blame Harry, but depression did weird things to people.

"If only he was here to hear you say that," Ginny whispered. "It might change his mind about everything."

George was silent for a minute before speaking again.

"We're gonna find him, Ginny," he said with an air of confidence and determination that rarely came out from his mouth. "I know we will. He can't hide forever, and besides, we're the Weasleys! Well…plus Neville, Luna, and Hermione, but still. We're the Weasleys. We find our family, and dye their hair red."

"I'll get the hair dye ready then," Ginny said with a grin.

George grinned back at his sister, and Ginny's heart fluttered at the sight of her brother's old grin back on his face again.

"That's the spirit," George said.

He stood up and offered his hand to Ginny who took it, pulling herself up. They began walking back to the house, the sun dropping lower in the sky, its rays now red, orange and pink. Ginny's hair glowed even more, as if it was burning.

"He's thinking of you, you know," George said just before they reached the door. "Right now, watching the sunset. And every time he sees it, he'll always be thinking of you."

And the two Weasley siblings entered the house, leaving the sun to set over the distant horizon.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing my story! Thanks to everyone who favorite-d it too! You're all totally awesome hehe :) Anyway, I own nothing. Harry Potter and everyone else belongs to JK Rowling. Hope you like this chapter!**

Chapter 10

_Whoosh_. Unlocking the door, Harry stepped out of the stall, pausing to glance at the water spiraling down the toilet. For the faintest second, it reminded him of the Ministry, but before he could complete his thought, he pushed it away. The plane had made him feel sick enough; reminders of the war would only make him feel sicker.

"You all right, mate?"

Harry glanced away from the stall upon hearing the voice, believing it to be Ron for only a moment. But the man that stood there wasn't Ron in the slightest. It was just a blonde guy with an Australian accent.

"I'm all right, thanks," Harry nodded, stumbling to the sinks.

"Plane sick?" the Australian man asked.

Harry nodded, filling up his cupped hands with water.

"Ahh, I know the feeling," the blonde man said.

"Happens to you often?" Harry asked once his mouth was washed out.

"Always," the man nodded before heading into a stall.

Harry almost threw up again as his face drained of the few bits of color left. He gripped the edge of the sink as memories of Snape surfaced in his mind. Harry bit his lip, fighting back the painful recollection of the battle night. He turned the faucet on again and splashed water in his face, sighing in relief as the icy water washed away his thoughts.

Wiping the wetness off his face, Harry left the bathroom rummaging around in his pocket to make sure his luggage had not fallen out along the way. His hand touched against the bags and he withdrew, running his hand through his hair instead.

The Australian airport was as busy as the one in London had been. People hurried around trying to catch their various planes, dragging their children along, turning around while shouting for members of their group to hurry up. Most of them probably weren't witches or wizards, and for that he was thankful. No one would notice him. He was an ordinary black-haired, green-eyed teenager dressed in ordinary clothes. His only distinguishing feature was his British accent, and even that wasn't extremely unusual.

Harry found the doors and left the airport without a glance back. Every trace of Britain was behind him now, and all of Australia lied before him.

Harry looked up at the Sydney skyline, one that was so different from London's. That in itself would help a bit. As he walked farther, he noticed the climate was different as well, and slipped on a light jacket. He had forgotten that while it was summer back in England, winter had come to Sydney, Australia.

Harry walked down the streets of Sydney, not sure of where he was going. When hundreds of people walked by him without so much as a glance in his direction, Harry managed a smile. No one was stopping him to praise him or to yell at him. No one recognized him at all. He was normal. He wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived…he was Harry Potter, the boy.

Yet as he strolled around Sydney, buying food and eventually turning up near the harbor to admire the Opera House and the bridge, exhaustion caught up with him, the excitement from not being recognized fading away.

I'll just go to bed then, Harry thought for a moment before realizing he had no home in Australia.

Harry bit his lip and drew his gaze away from the brilliantly blue waters. The sun would be setting soon, and booking a hotel room would probably be an intelligent idea. Harry could almost hear Hermione chastising him for not thinking things through enough and he almost smiled before guilt emerged in the pit of his stomach. Hermione…Hermione, who had given up so much to help him, even her parents...

A sick feeling overwhelmed him and he grasped the metal bars preventing him from falling into the water below. Harry heaved, the remnants of his last meal along with a mixture of stomach acid plummeting into the harbor.

Harry wiped his mouth of his jacket sleeve, grimacing. The sickness would have to stop soon or his throat would be redder than the Gryffindor tapestries at Hogwarts. Before he could feel ill again, Harry pushed Gryffindor out of his mind. He certainly wasn't acting like one now, anyway.

Harry headed back from the harbor, deciding to pick the first hotel that he came upon. Harry looked up at the skyscraper, peering at the name. The Four Seasons. It would work, at least for one night. He had seven hundred thousand pounds with him, after all, which he hadn't bothered to exchange for Australian dollars. Since the hotel was so upscale, they might even do it for him.

Harry walked up to the hotel at the doorman opened the door for him but gave him a suspicious look. Harry passed through the doors, looking down at his own attire. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a light jacket over the shirt, but nothing was fancy. It was probably odd for a casually dressed teenager to simply walk into the Four Seasons Hotel.

Harry ignored the odd looks he got from the guests and staff alike, making his way to the desk. A brunette behind the counter was free, so he headed over to her, forcing himself to give her a smile. She smiled back, but with a sense of confusion.

"Hello," Harry said. "I'd like to book a suite for one."

"A…A suite?" the woman frowned, but kept her smile in place. "Er, certainly. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Harry lied smoothly. He would be eighteen in a few weeks, after all.

"All right," the woman nodded. "Well, a suite for one? May I have your name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, and for once in his life, he wasn't afraid to give his full name. No one here would gasp when he said it.

The woman typed something (Harry assumed it was his name) into the computer in front of her.

"Mr. Potter," she said slowly, as if it felt odd on her tongue, "do you want any specific accommodations? Any certain views?"

"One of the harbor would be nice, if you have it," Harry shrugged. "I'm not picky."

The brunette nodded and typed more information into the database.

"Are you aware of the cost, Mr. Potter?" she asked, peering at him over her glasses.

"I'm aware it will be a good deal of money," Harry said, and took out a handful of hundred pound notes. "Will you take British currency? I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to get it exchanged yet."

"We…we can exchange it for you," the woman said, a look of surprise on her face when she saw the money Harry held.

"Thanks, that would be great," Harry smiled, dumping half his money onto the table, receiving an even more surprised look from the clerk.

"It's…it's no trouble," the woman gulped, sweeping the money into a pile. "I will return shortly."

Harry nodded.

He inspected the lobby, his eyes drifting over the decorations and the people. The lobby itself was quite beautiful and elaborate, but he had not really expected anything less at such a fancy hotel. Some of the people seemed to be dressed like himself, except none of them were seventeen-year-olds roaming around by themselves. Anyone under the age of twenty was with an older adult, and it seemed that teenagers were almost entirely absent from the lobby.

Harry sighed. He had just unintentionally received more attention than most normal people did. Still, it was nothing compared to the attention he received back in England. But what was wrong with him? Why did attract attention everywhere he went? Did he accidentally keep pushing himself into those kinds of situations?

Shortly, the woman returned with his money all transformed into Australian currency. Harry pocketed the money and paid the woman what was owed for the room, which made a small dent in his supply. With yet another smile the woman behind the counter handed him his key, and Harry took it.

Harry reached the elevators, waiting no longer than a few moments for one to arrive. He stepped on, standing awkwardly next to a pompous-looking middle-aged man and a woman who he assumed was the man's much younger wife. The elevator binged, and Harry stepped off at his floor. Reading the signs, he figured out where his room was and went that way, walking through the winding halls. He slipped out the key, sliding it into the lock and stepped inside the room.

His jaw dropped. He knew the room would be extravagant as it was a suite at the Four Seasons, but he had not known _how_ extravagant it would be. Growing up in a cupboard for a decent portion of his life, the most extravagance Harry had seen was the dormitories at Hogwarts. But this was even more expensive-looking.

Harry bit his lip. The view was beautiful and the room seemed to sparkle. Every accommodation was placed artistically around the room, but Harry wasn't quite sure he liked the place. The whole look seemed to scream "expensive," which was definitely something Harry was not used to. But maybe in his new life, he would face more extravagance. Maybe this was where he was supposed to live.

Harry shook his head. He would give it a little while. Just because he wanted to escape his old life didn't mean that he had to make enormous purchases and waste his money on unnecessary accommodations and views.

Making his way to the window, Harry gazed out at the harbor. The sun was dropping lower in the sky, casting a fiery glow on the water and the Sydney skyline. The sun appeared to be a molten semicircle, sinking lower over the horizon, the rays piercing through the buildings, casting shimmers on the waves in the harbor.

Harry pressed his fingers against the wide, glass windows, something he would never have been allowed to do if the Dursleys had been there. He peered into the sun, the glow seeming to set his green eyes on fire. Fire. Ginny.

Try as he might to push the thought from his mind, Ginny seemed to dangle in his thoughts, tantalizing him. He pressed his eyes closed and opened them, staring right into the sunset, it's fiery glow dull in comparison to Ginny's beautiful, red locks.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, pressing his fingers more firmly against the glass as if he could reach out to the rays of light, in false hope that they might turn to the soft locks of Ginny's hair. "Ginny…I'm so sorry."

Harry bit his lip again and tore his gaze away. Maybe getting the harbor view wasn't his best idea. Maybe this whole Australia thing wasn't his best idea.

Harry shook his head. No, he needed to leave. He needed to move on. He couldn't think of Ginny anymore, or anyone else. Harry searched the room and finally found a remote, pressing a button to close up the windows. The blinds dropped down, and the sunset disappeared.

**A/N: REVIEW PLEASE! I'll review your story if you review mine, I promise. :) Thanks so much to all who review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's the eleventh chapter...hope you like it! Seriously, if you like it PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE review! Reviews keep me going. Thanks so much if you do. :) I don't own any of it!**

Chapter 11

_Knock knock._

Ginny heard the knocks on her bedroom door and turned towards them, calling, "Come in!"

The door opened and Ron stuck his head in, then his whole body as he sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed. Ginny smiled at her brother but couldn't help be a bit disappointed. Every time someone knocked, though she knew it was highly illogical, she hoped it might be Harry returning, coming back, wrapping her in his arms and swinging her around the room before planting a kiss on her lips, promising to never go away again. But of course, the knocker wasn't Harry. It was Ron.

"Hello," Ginny greeted him, scooting over on the bed to make room for her brother.

"Hey, Ginny," Ron said. "Listen, we're gonna start the map searching again. You can stay up here or come down if you want…I know it's early."

Ginny glanced at her watch, which told her the time was currently seven in the morning. She sighed and shook her head.

"No, I'll come, I just need a few minutes," she stated. "Hermione sure is dedicated to this…it makes me feel awful to dread these sessions."

Ron shook his head and put his hand on his sister's shoulder.

"Don't feel bad," he urged. "It's early, it's boring, and you probably want to do other things. Hermione is dedicated to everything in general, so it's not really much of a surprise that she's dedicated to her best friend…her first friend, too."

"Really?" Ginny cocked her head, sensing a story coming up. She loved hearing stories about Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were always much more interesting than her own stories about the Hogwarts experience.

Ron nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "You've heard the troll in the dungeon story, right?"

"Bits of it," Ginny shrugged. "And not for a while. Refresh my memory?"

"All right," Ron agreed. "Well in the beginning of our first year, Harry and I hated Hermione. We thought she was a know-it-all, which, mind you, she _is_, but we didn't want to deal with her back then. Everyone else in Hogwarts hated her too. So I guess we made fun of her a bit, and tried to avoid talking to her."

"Ron, you're horrible!" Ginny exclaimed, hitting him on the arm.

"Hey, your boyfriend was too," Ron said. "But anyway, one day I said something that really upset her, so she spent the whole day in the bathroom, crying. It was Halloween, so we were all in the middle of the huge feast when Quirrell, the Defense teacher at the time, burst in saying there was a troll in the dungeon. So we were all led out, and then Harry said something like, 'what about Hermione? She doesn't know there's a troll.'"

Ginny sighed at Harry's bit of chivalry and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Just hold it in till the end, okay?" he said, and then continued. "So like I was saying, Harry said that, and I was a bit wary to go, but he convinced me and we went and saved her Hermione from the troll. So I guess Harry was the one that really warmed up to her first. And over the years, Harry's been the one that has been consistently kind to her. Unlike me…I've been quite a git over the years."

"But only because you loved her, Ron," Ginny said soothingly, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder. "And she understands that. She loves you too."

"I know," Ron nodded. "I'm not jealous of Harry or anything. It's just…he's always been her number one best friend. No offence to you, either."

"None taken," Ginny dismissed the statement. "I know they're best friends…I would never try to take Harry's place."

"You really couldn't take Harry's place…in anything," Ron said thoughtfully. "Not that anyone could, really."

A bit of annoyance surged up in Ginny, but she controlled her temper, taking a deep breath, thinking about Ron's words.

"I suppose not," she admitted. "He was certainly one of a kind…I miss him."

"I know," Ron nodded, putting his arm around his little sister. "I do too. But don't worry, we're gonna find him. I promise."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement and pulled away.

"Thanks, Ron," she said. "I'll be down in a few, all right?"

Closing the door behind her brother's retreating figure, Ginny glanced over at her dresser. The wood surface was littered with quills, ink wells, old scraps of parchment, photographs, and a few homemade picture frames with precious pictures inside the borders.

Slipping on a pair of jeans, Ginny picked up one of the frames, examining the photograph within. She was in the center, her arms wrapped around Ron and Percy. Beside them stood each twin, for at that time there were two, and beside the twins stood Bill and Charlie. Ginny smiled, recalling the memory. It had been taken years ago, before she had even gotten her Hogwarts acceptance letter, back when everything and everyone was simple and content.

She put down the frame and picked up the next one. Ginny's heart fluttered as she looked at the vibrant photograph, closing her eyes to fight back tears and to absorb the memory. In the photo, a younger, more naïve Ginny sat in the shade of sagging tree branches beside a bespectacled, black haired boy.

"Harry," she whispered out loud, touching the photograph with her fingertips.

She set aside the photograph and continued to dress herself, finally finishing her look with a gold locket. Glancing back at the picture, she forced herself to draw her eyes away as she left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Voices drifted up the stairs, and it was obvious that the group had started the debate without her. Ginny walked into the kitchen, smiling at the faces crowded around the table. Ron sat beside Hermione, and next to them sat Neville and Luna, who sat near George, Bill, and Fleur. The others were not to be seen yet.

"Merlin, you people are dedicated," Ginny muttered, taking the remaining seat at the end of the table. "I feel terrible."

"Do not feel terribly," Luna piped up. "I'm sure you're going through much more emotional distress than some of us."

"I'm not going through distress," Ginny said a bit too indignantly. "I am a strong, powerful, independent witch, and I do not need to rely on the Savior of the Wizarding World to live."

"That's true," Luna admitted, shrugging. "But you do need him to be truly happy."

Ginny bit her lip. Sometimes she hated how spot on Luna could be.

"Whatever," Ginny gave up, running her fingers through her red tresses. "Let's just get on with it."

"I still think he went to Australia," Luna said.

"Well I think he went to the States," Hermione countered. "They symbolize new opportunities, and—"

"Hermione, Harry didn't think about this as extensively as you," Ginny piped up. "He decided this in a matter of hours. I agree with Luna. I feel like he would go to Australia."

"But my parents are in Australia," Hermione protested. "Wouldn't that be some sort of reminder of us?"

Ginny's heart sank. Ron had told her how Hermione had modified her parents' memories, and how she planned to try to find them. But due to everything that had been going on, the Ministry and Hermione herself had not had a chance to invest any time in that.

"I…I don't think he would consider that, Hermione," Ginny said, her tone gentler. "He never really met your parents, and probably wouldn't know who they are if he saw them on the street. Besides, Harry doesn't consider everything…he acts impulsively."

"I agree with Ginny," Luna said, nodding. "I think that since your parents are in Australia that might have made Harry choose it more so than the others. I don't think he really wanted to go based on what you've all said, and I think the fact that your parents are there might have been some sort of subconscious comfort to him."

Hermione sighed, staring at the map and a piece of parchment full of complex, useless notes. Tears gathered in Hermione's eyes and she dabbed at her eyes as Ron put his arms around her. Ginny smiled at her brother's bit of affection as Hermione smiled a bit as well.

"I suppose we have nothing better to go on," Hermione nodded. "We should start with Australia then."

"Hey," Ron said suddenly when Hermione had finished speaking. "Since we're going to Australia to look for Harry…why don't we find your parents while we're there?"

Ron had barely finished his sentence when Hermione flung herself at him, kissing him. Despite the twinge of jealousy she felt, Ginny smiled. Her brother was happy, one of her best friends was happy, and that was enough to make her happy.

"Really?" Hermione asked, pulling away, her brown eyes bright. "Is that all right with you all?"

"Absolutely," Neville said, and the others agreed, nodding. "It's extremely important that you find them. We'd be awful if we tried to stop you."

Hermione looked around at her friends, tears accumulating in her eyes.

"Thank you all so much," she choked out.

"We're your friends, Hermione," Ginny said, resting her hand on Hermione's arm. "It's what we do."

Hermione nodded and wiped her eyes.

"Thank you. All of you. But before we go to Australia, I think we need to contact Gringotts. Harry must have taken money out of his vault before he went, and maybe they'll have some information to give us. We have to be careful though…we don't want this Harry running away story to end up in the _Prophet_."

The friends nodded, and, gathering their belongings together, grasped hands and Apparated to Diagon Alley. The streets were crowded as they had been, and the mourning drapes still hung in the shop windows. Ginny bit her lip. Just a few meters down, in the muggle clothing shop, Harry had Disapparated...

She shook her head and took a breath. Her mind had to be clear. She couldn't wallow in sadness.

Gringotts loomed before them, its massive columns towering above all the small shops below. Ginny followed the group up the marble steps, pushing through the enormous doorway. They walked forward purposefully, right to one of the available goblins. Ginny stood behind Hermione, ready to back her up if matters took a turn for the worse.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione said, emphasizing her polite tone. It worked, and the goblin's interest was peaked. "I…I don't know if you know, but I'm Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, a member of the trio that helped to defeat Voldemort."

Hermione paused, and Ginny examined the goblin's face. He didn't seem to be impressed.

"Well, er, anyway," Hermione stumbled over her words, trying to regain her confidence. "As good friends of Harry, we're concerned about him. And…well…we want to know if he took any large sums of gold out of his vault."

The goblin peered at them over the desk, his spindly fingers curled around the edges. A smirk crossed his face.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Miss Granger," he replied firmly. "Each witch or wizard's vault is their own business."

Hermione blushed, but shook her hair out of her face and stuck her chin up.

"I need to know," she stated, even more firmly than the goblin. "We need to bring Harry Potter back to the Wizarding World before he leaves entirely. Without him, the Ministry might reform back to its old ways."

This interested the goblin, and he sat forward a bit.

"Back?" he questioned. "He has gone?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, sir," she replied, mimicking the goblin's choice of words. "Each wizard's life plans is his own business."

The goblin frowned, but then smiled.

"Ah, well…" he mused, falling silent for a moment. "Mr. Potter took seven hundred thousand pounds of muggle money out of his vault."

Ginny nearly choked. She didn't understand muggle money perfectly, but any large thousand of something was sure to be enormous.

"Se-Seven hundred th-thousand?" Hermione stammered. "Really?"

The goblin nodded.

"Oh," she said. "Well. Do you know where he took the money?"

"He did not say," the goblin replied.

Ginny bit her lip. There went their only hope of confirmation whether Harry was in Australia.

"Oh Harry," she whispered under her breath as Hermione talked to the goblin. "Where are you?"

**A/N: REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE! Thank you if you do! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hiiii everyone! I'm sosososososososo sorry I haven't updated in a week! I was away on vacation, and I didn't have any Internet, so I couldn't update. Anyway, here's the next chapter, and I will try very hard to update a lot this week to make up for my week of absence. Hope you like the chapter. Thanks for reading! Thanks even more for reviewing! :)**

Chapter 12

"NO! PLEASE! NO! NOOOO!"

Harry sat bolt upright in the large bed, drenched in sweat. A drum pounded in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He sputtered, gasping through the much-needed breaths of air, clenching the sheets tightly as if they would give him support. His green eyes were wide from the fear in his nightmare, his mouth ajar as he sucked in whatever oxygen he could obtain.

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead once his pulse was lowered from the heart attack level, and drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, resting his head against the tops of his knees. Almost, it felt as if he was hugging a person, a friend, a family member.

Harry gritted his teeth and tensed.

No, it was as if it was hugging himself. Not anyone else. Because they were in England, or were dead. And he was here in Australia. Alone.

Harry slipped out of bed and made his way into the much-too-large bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked up into the mirror, watching the rivulets run down his pale, clammy face. He then proceeded to examine his reflection, looking past what clung to his chilled skin. His hair stuck up even more from the recent sleep, his jaw line coated with the faintest shadow. And in the midst of his clearly exhausted face were his eyes, which, though they remained bright and emerald in happy times, were darkened and solemn.

Harry drew his darker green eyes away from the mirror, growing annoyed with looking at his sickly reflection. The several days he had spent in Australia had done nothing for his appearance, his happiness, and his mood. And the nightmares, rather than fade into obscurity, had gotten increasingly worse each night.

Harry wiped the remaining wetness off his face and padded back towards the bed, falling onto it, sinking into the plush pillows littered by the headboard. He closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to block out every image of war, every angry person, every dying friend, every disappointed parent...

Frustrated, Harry sat up again and checked the clock. It was four in the morning. Harry rubbed his eyes and stood up again, this time making his way over to the vast windows. The sun was not yet peeking over the horizon, but the predawn glow was starting to form, and Harry knew that within the hour that he would be faced with a beautiful sunrise.

He peered down towards the streets below, still illuminated by lampposts. They were mostly empty, with a few people walking by, and several cars driving by, likely headed for work. Likely headed there without much care in the world except what ridiculous task their boss would have them do that day, or where they would spend their lunch break. Harry smiled bitterly at their problems. If only his were that simple, that insignificant.

Bored with his massive hotel room, Harry slipped on a shirt and a pair of jeans, grabbing a sweatshirt on the way out of the room. The hotel was quiet, and Harry was too, his footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted hallway floors. He opened the stairwell, taking the stairs over the elevator. He reached the lobby, smiled briefly at a receptionist, and walked out through the automatic doorway onto the Sydney streets.

The streets were mostly empty like they had been when he looked on from his hotel room, and Harry wished he had gone out at a more reasonable time of day, where thousands would likely be out for full day of work, shopping, or sightseeing. It would have been less painful to immerse himself in the masses rather than stroll down alone and immerse himself in his thoughts.

Yet his choice was made, and there was no turning back as he walked farther and farther from the hotel, simply strolling around Sydney. Much like his choice to leave England. He couldn't simply return after a few days and admit he was wrong. And what if he wasn't wrong? What if he was right in going away, but just needed to give it more time? After all, wasn't the saying "things have to get worse before they get better" accurate in most situations?

Harry sighed and attempted to push it from his mind. But what could he really think about other than the issue at hand? What was his life outside of Voldemort, and outside the war?

"You need to do something with yourself, Potter," Harry muttered to himself. "Go make a friend or two."

Harry considered it. Making a friend would be nice. It would be a person to talk to, to take his mind off of everything. But with friends came worry, and with friends came trust. And Harry didn't think he could possibly trust anyone with all his secrets. No one except Ron and Hermione and Ginny, of course.

Harry felt a pain in his chest and bit his lip. He had been constantly thinking about his two best friends and his former girlfriend, no matter how hard he tried to block them from his mind. Every bit of red hair was a sign of the Weasleys, and every book was a reminder of Hermione. It was impossible to escape their influence. And then, at every sunset, his mind filled itself with thoughts of Ginny. The sunsets they had always watched by the lake always surfaced first, and his reverie always ended with the same theory that Ginny's hair was made up of the rays of light plucked from the sun as it set.

Shaking his head, Harry looked firmly ahead and walked on. He would have to do _something _soon. But he wasn't quite sure what. What did rich, friendless muggles do in their spare time? He wasn't quite sure there was any person on earth who knew the answer to the question. And he certainly didn't know the answer.

Harry headed down the street, trying to admire the trees and the buildings and the Opera House and whatever he could admire to distract his thoughts. Yet as he walked further down the road, he saw a glimpse of vibrant red, and a glimpse of bushy brown hair. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes, cleaning his glasses off. But no, as he walked, the red and the brown grew more detailed, and after a minute or so, he was almost prepared to gamble his life savings that the three people walking towards him were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

He stopped on the sidewalk, afraid to move closer to the three people advancing towards him. He stood there, almost paralyzed, watching the three people walk closer and closer. Finally, when they were no more than twenty yards away, the patterns of freckles, the warm brown eyes, and the vibrant beautiful locks were enough to confirm that the gorgeous redhead girl was Ginny Weasley. Harry gazed at her, transfixed. It was the first time he had seen her in nearly a week, yet it felt like the first time he had seen her in months.

He watched as she approached with his two best friends, unable to utter a sound, unable to move. Yet when they crossed one of the sidewalk lines, and his name escaped one of their lips, Harry performed the first bit of magic he had in days: he Disapparated.

**A/N: PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE REVIEW. Thanks so much if you do-you're totally awesome. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hi! Like I promised, I'm trying to update a lot now because I know that soon I'll be super busy, so here's another chapter! Hope you like it! I'd love it if you review-even if you hate it! :) Thanks so much. x**

Chapter 13

"WAIT! WAIT!"

Ginny looked on as her brother sprinted down the street, running straight through the spot that the dark haired boy had disappeared. She sighed and shook her head. It was useless to chase after someone who had already Disapparated.

"Ron!" Hermione called, quickening her pace.

The two girls reached Ron, who stood at the spot of Disapparition. He leaned over, his hands on his knees, staring at the slab of concrete as if it would open a portal to their disappearing friend. But the gray sidewalk remained solid and still, and Ron sank down to his knees, his breathing ragged and troubled. Hermione knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder, her face against his arm, only for a moment, before she looked up at him.

"Ron, you need to remember the plan," she said gently.

Ron grimaced but nodded in agreement.

"Right," he said. "But Hermione…it's so bloody difficult. He was there, right there, and we were supposed to just act calmly? And just say hi to him on the street as if we're passing in Diagon Alley? How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that? I feel like hexing the noble bloke…or hugging him. One of the two."

Ginny laughed and joined her brother and her friend on the sidewalk.

"Try feeling like that every day," she smiled. "That's what you get for being close to someone like Harry."

A smile crept up Hermione's face too, and she wrapped her arms around each Weasley sibling.

"Oh, you two," she said with a small chuckle, standing up. "Let's go then. We need to find somewhere to stay. It's four in the morning, and I am quite exhausted. We can wake up later in the morning and find Harry, but right now I'm sure he's quite tired as well."

Ginny nodded in agreement. As she stood up, she realized she _was _quite tired. The excitement of seeing Harry, actually _seeing _him, for the first time in nearly a week, was enough to fill her whole body with adrenaline. Yet now that it had worn off, the jetlag was beginning to kick in, and a hotel or motel or bed and breakfast or simply anything with a bed was looking like the most wonderful place in the world.

Hermione led the way as the three friends walked to the place that they had said they would meet Neville, Luna and the others at. They arrived at a nice motel in the magical community on the outskirts of Sydney, and quickly divvied up the rooms before heading inside for a nice, long sleep.

Ginny sank onto one of the beds in the room she shared with Hermione and Luna, not bothering to change into her pajamas. The long flight itself had worn her out, and the disappointment over Harry's reaction to seeing them was even more exhausting. They were certainly going to be in for a long trip.

The following morning, or rather later that morning, Ginny was awakened by the sunlight streaming through the window. She rolled over, and groaned upon seeing the much too low numbers flash on the clock by the bedside. Eight in the morning was far too early to wake up when she had only gone to bed at four thirty, possibly even later. She buried her head beneath the sheets, clamping her eyes firmly shut. Yet after several unsuccessful minutes, she threw off the covers and slipped out of bed, taking care to tiptoe past the sleeping figures of Hermione and Luna.

Ginny put a robe on over her pajama shorts and tank top, and opened the door to the small patio outside their room. The sun gleamed in the blue Australian sky, and down the road the city of Sydney loomed in the distance. Somewhere in the mass of metal, Harry was probably just waking up. Somewhere in there…was Harry.

Ginny turned away from the city to look in the other direction. And as she did so, she jumped, startled by the person on the patio beside her's. Seeing that it was merely Neville, her heartbeat resumed its normal rate, and she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at her friend.

"Hey, Ginny," Neville smiled at her. "Sorry if I startled you."

"No worries," Ginny waved away his apology. "It's my fault. I was just thinking."

"How Harry's in there, somewhere?" Neville asked, gesturing towards the city.

Ginny nodded slowly and smiled, amazed how he had seemingly read her thoughts.

"Yes," she said softly. "How'd you know?"

Neville shrugged and Ginny smiled at his nonchalant behavior. A little over three years ago, when he had asked her to the Yule Ball, Neville had been anything but nonchalant. But through Dumbledore's Army, and especially in Harry's absence at Hogwarts, Neville had grown into a much more confident person, and Ginny was glad of it. He was a wonderful person, and peace with himself was all he really needed to show that to the world.

"I miss him too, you know," Neville said after they stood there for a few silent moments. "Not in the same way as you, I'm sure…but I do miss him. He really helped me out, Harry did."

"He helped everyone out," Ginny replied automatically.

Neville smiled.

"That he did. He was a good guy. It's a shame to see him beat himself up."

Ginny was quiet for a moment, tacit in agreement with Neville's words. Harry had such an influence on them, on all of them. Though she knew it, Ginny was constantly amazed by how many people's lives he had touched and changed for the better. There was Neville, one of the bravest fighters in the war against Voldemort, who might never have shown his true Gryffindor side had it not been Harry who pushed him to do so. And other than Neville, there were countless others who Harry had inspired, had pushed, and driven to fight for what they believed in.

"I think you should talk to him," Ginny found herself saying.

"What?" Neville frowned.

"I think he needs to hear from you," Ginny rephrased herself a bit. "…Even more so than he needs to hear from me right now."

Still frowning, Neville asked, "Why?"

Ginny bit her lip and turned to face her friend.

"He inspired you, didn't he, Neville?" she asked almost rhetorically, but Neville nodded nonetheless. "Well…right now he's not feeling like a very inspirational guy. He's downtrodden, he's sick of himself. He's confused, mainly, and he shouldn't be. He shouldn't feel responsible for the horrors of the war, but he _should _feel responsible for inspiring so many people to fight for what they believed in, and to stand up to Voldemort. And you're the perfect example of that, Neville. You told me you never thought your Gryffindor colors would show, yet all through your seventh year and especially in the Battle of Hogwarts you were as brave as Harry himself. And I think Harry needs to be reminded that he helped you accomplish all that you did. I think it's a good first step to helping him come home."

Neville nodded when Ginny had finished talking.

"I think it's a good first step too," he agreed. "I'll definitely do it. Whenever you need me to. We'd better talk it over with Hermione first though."

"Talk what over with me?"

Ginny wheeled around to see Hermione's bushy head emerge from the doorway, followed by the rest of her. She closed the door behind her and walked between Neville and Ginny, glancing from one to the other.

"What do you need to tell me?" she asked them, not directing her question at one or the other in particular.

"Neville and I have a plan," Ginny said. "Or the start of one. To bring Harry back."

Ginny explained what she had come up with to Hermione, and Hermione listened intently, nodding the whole time. When Ginny finished, Hermione smiled and nodded eagerly.

"It's a good idea. We can definitely start with that. We really need to be careful though, and first let him know that we're here, slowly, because if we just shove Neville at him and have him give Harry a whole big speech, we're definitely going to freak him out a bit, and then he might flee again. And we can't have that. It took us forever to figure out he was here. So first, we need to locate him and show him that we're in town, but we're not bothering him. Hopefully, he'll accept it and won't leave." She paused in her instructions, allowing herself a grin. "But then…then, we send in Neville."

**REVIEW...PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR QUILLS ON TOP. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hi everyone! Super sorry about the longer waits between chapters, but this is probably what it's going to be like from now on till I magically (haha, that was totally unintentional) get more free time. It was really late when I wrote this (which was like...fifteen minutes ago), so I apologize if it isn't that great. I wanted to get you all another chapter incase Hurricane Irene takes down the Internet. But anyways, I own nothing about Harry Potter! Enjoy the chapter! :) x**

Chapter 14

They were in Australia. But not just Australia. They were in Sydney. And not just Sydney, either. They were in the same area of Sydney as he was. And they were undoubtedly looking for him.

Harry paced around the hotel room, the situation that had happened many hours earlier still running through his mind. It had been Ron, Hermione and Ginny, he was sure of it. Though they were still fairly far away when he Disapparated, there was no mistaking Hermione's bushy mane of hair, and the vibrant red of the Weasley siblings.

They were in Australia, and they were looking for him.

Harry glanced at the somewhat packed bag lying on the unmade bed. Hours ago when he first returned to the room, fleeing had been his first solution to the problem. But after tossing a few shirts and a few pairs of jeans into the bag, he stopped, rethinking his initial course of action. Fleeing again would be pointless, and stupid. But what a good solution to his problem would be, Harry wasn't quite sure.

Harry walked briskly to the window and peered out, hoping the sparkling harbor would stimulate his brain into forming some sort of idea. He almost wished Hermione were there, just for a moment, so she could give him an idea. But that in itself was pretty much a paradox, wasn't it? Harry shook his head. Hermione would know the answer to that, too.

As he gazed over the glittering water, Harry's stomach let out a rumble. He tore his eyes away from the outside world and walked over to the kitchen in his room. He looked in the fridge only to find designer water and soda, plus a few bags of crisps in the cabinets. Unsatisfied with the options, Harry grabbed his room card and headed out again, this time with a mission in mind: breakfast.

Harry walked down the street, his eyes focused on the concrete beneath him for most of the time. Occasionally he glanced up to see where his feet led him, but so sporadic were the glances that he did not have a chance to even look at the people passing by. But that was intentional. He didn't want to run into his friends again, wherever they were in the city.

He stopped in front of a bakery, choosing it simply out of convenience. Bells jingled as he pushed open the door to the shop, and he joined the large queue waiting to order pastries or various bread products along with large cups of coffee or tea from the busy employees at the counter. Harry glanced up at the menu, his eyes briefly scanning it before he decided on a miniature treacle tart and a cup of tea.

Harry only waited for a few minutes before the line dissipated and he arrived at the counter.

"Er, I'll have a treacle tart and a medium tea, please," Harry said, looking in his pocket for a few Australian dollars.

"Would that be to take away?" a familiar voice said.

Harry's head immediately shot up to look at the person behind the counter and he jumped back, exclaiming, "Bloody hell!"

Harry blinked several times and gripped the counter, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. Because standing before him, behind the counter, dressed in a bakery employee uniform, was Luna Lovegood. Luna Lovegood, his friend, his fellow Dumbledore's Army member, who was supposed to be living in England at the moment.

"Luna?" Harry asked, painfully aware that he couldn't Disapparate in a crowded bakery.

"Why yes, Harry," she nodded. "Who else did you think I was?"

"I—no one, that's why—what? Luna?" Harry stumbled over his words. "Luna…why are you here?"

"I'm here with Ron, Hermione and Ginny," Luna explained. "And Neville and George too, actually. Ron, Hermione and Ginny told me they saw you yesterday, but you…" –she glanced around the room— "you…disappeared."

"I…well…" Harry opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say to it.

"We're not going to bother you," Luna said before he could come up with anything coherent. "That's not why we're here. Hermione's parents live somewhere in Australia, and she thinks they might be living in Sydney. We're trying to find them to un-modify their memories. It is a shame living without a mother or father, isn't it?"

Luna cocked her head to the side a bit; her protruding eyes were fixed on Harry. With that, he and Luna shared a common bond. They each knew what it was like to not have a mother. And now, Hermione was joining their little group. It pained him to hear that.

"I can help," Harry blurted out, and as the words slipped from his mouth, he regretted each one, especially when a large smile spread across Luna's face.

"Really, Harry?" she said, much happier than before. "That's wonderful!"

Harry nodded a bit. He couldn't take back the words, could he? Would that be awful? Did he care if he was awful? Yes, he decided quickly, he did care if he was awful. He wouldn't be awful. He didn't change that much.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly.

Luna smiled again and handed him a bag with the treacle tart in it, along with several napkins and his cup of tea.

"Thank you, Harry," she said as he started to walk away. "Although if you really would like to spend more time alone before helping, which I know you would, I won't tell the others if you like."

Harry stopped in his tracks. How Luna always knew what he was thinking, he never knew, and he doubted whether he would ever know. He turned around to face the blonde girl and took a few steps back to the counter.

"I…I might ask you to do that for me," he said.

Luna looked at him sympathetically and muttered something to her coworker before she took off her bakery apron and walked around from the counter next to Harry. She gently placed one of her hands on his shoulder and looked into his green eyes.

"Would you like to go for a walk, Harry?" she asked.

Harry found himself nodding, despite the fact that his mind was screaming at him not to go, that he came here to get away from the war and everyone involved with it, that Luna could drag so much out of him, that he should just leave and walk around Sydney to eat his treacle tart in peace. But whatever his mind was saying didn't seem to matter, and Harry followed Luna out of the bakery to a grassy park where the sun streamed through the trees lining the paths.

They walked in silence for a while, but Harry didn't mind the silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but when enough time had passed, Harry felt a burning desire to say something. Fortunately, Luna spoke at exactly the right moment.

"I wasn't supposed to be the first one to speak to you," she admitted. "Hermione made up this whole plan, that if we ran into you, who should talk to you first. It wasn't supposed to be me…but I suppose not everything goes as planned."

"I suppose," Harry nodded.

Luna couldn't have spoken anything truer. He had never planned on moving to Australia after the war. He had never planned for the _Prophet _to write such horrible lies and cruel opinions about him. If he wanted to go really far back, he had never planned to become the Savior, the Chosen One, or even the Boy Who Lived.

"I'm sure you can quite relate to that," Luna said, as if reading his thoughts again. "Your life has gone very…askew."

Harry snorted at Luna's word choice. Askew barely scratched the surface.

"You can say that again," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened to you," Luna said after a few more minutes of silence. "You don't deserve to have those horrible things written about you. Daddy's been making sure the _Quibbler _is writing only good things…but I'm not sure you want that either, do you, Harry?"

Harry stopped walking and turned to face his friend.

"I don't know what I want, Luna," he admitted. "I don't know. I'm confused. I'm not even sure I want to talk about all this yet. That's why I came here…I want to get away from it all, to escape, to…I don't know. It's not very Gryffindor of me, I know. But I couldn't take it. I couldn't. But apparently, none of that is working, because within the week I've been here I've already run into you, Ron, Hermione, and…and Ginny."

Luna smiled a small, knowing smile but said nothing of the last name Harry listed.

"I'm sorry," she said again, starting to step away from him. "I'll tell them to leave you be. For a while…but probably not forever. You're not going to be able to hold them off for more than a month at the most, I would say."

"And why not?" Harry asked as Luna started to walk away, causing her to pause in her tracks. "Why wouldn't they leave me be? They don't need me. They're better off."

Luna smiled again and looked at him.

"They're your friends," she replied. "They need you. And whether you know it or not yet, you need them too."

**A/N: REVIEWS = HIGHLY APPRECIATED. You know you want to review! Pretty please with sugar quills on top? :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello everyone! I am so so so sorry I haven't updated in forever, but I've been so busy with school starting and everything, because when school starts, homework starts. :/ Anyways, sorry if this chapter isn't so great, but I wrote it when I had a moment of free time, so it was a bit rushed, but I hope it's okay and I hope you like it. :) I don't own Harry Potter obviously! Thank you all so much for reading. Reviews are immensely appreciated. x**

Chapter 15

"I talked to Harry today."

_"What?"_

Ginny watched the soup fly across the table towards Ron's face as it came out of Hermione's mouth. The bushy-haired girl flushed in embarrassment for a moment upon seeing the burning hot lunch land on her boyfriend, but she disregarded it in the next and returned her attention to Luna.

"What, Luna?" she repeated.

"I talked to Harry," Luna said, stirring her own soup around in the bowl. "I saw him this morning."

"When?" Hermione frowned.

"Just after we talked, really," Luna said. "I had just gotten to the job my cousin found for me (so we could have money, you know), when Harry walked into the bakery. And I spoke to him."

"What did he say?" Ron cut in.

Ginny too leaned closer to Luna and as she glanced around, she realized that everyone's heads were inching closer to the blonde girl.

"He didn't speak much," Luna commented, still stirring her soup. "But we just had a brief chat. It wasn't anything much. I think it may have gotten him thinking a bit about returning. But we should leave him alone for a bit longer…he really needs the time."

"Why?" Ron frowned. "You've spoken to him, so now we should all go one by one and go with Hermione's plan. If you persuaded him a little already, once we all go he'll be home within the week."

"It's not that simple, Ron," Luna shook her head, looking up from the bowl. "I'm lucky this worked out so well, because it was close to going very poorly. If the bakery wasn't crowded, Harry would have Disapparated from the very store and probably would be leaving Australia at this moment."

"Luna may be right," Ginny agreed. "We don't want to jump on him all at once. If you guys haven't realized by his actions, he's not in the most stable condition, and we don't want to break him down even more by pressuring him."

Luna nodded.

"Ginny is correct," she said, continuing the thought. "I think that we need to give him some time alone. He could use it. Ginny, may I speak with you alone?"

Ginny blinked a few times, startled by Luna's abrupt request, but nodded and followed Luna out of the motel room onto the small concrete patio. Luna closed the door behind them and looked up at the sky for a few moments. When she didn't speak Ginny coughed, putting an end to Luna's cloud gazing.

"So…what did you need to tell me?" Ginny asked.

"You cannot tell the others," Luna said in a serious tone that Ginny rarely heard her speak in. "I feel as though you should know, but the others don't."

Ginny frowned and crossed her arms. Was there something seriously wrong with Harry? Why couldn't Luna tell everybody, or at least Ron and Hermione as well? Pushing her questions aside for later, Ginny nodded, letting her continue.

"I figured I'd let someone know, so…Harry offered to help us search for Hermione's parents," Luna said. "He felt obliged, you see, but I don't think he's ready to do it, so I'm not going to ask him to join us when we do go."

"Obliged?" Ginny tilted her head a bit. "What do you mean?"

"He knows what it's like to live without his parents," Luna said, and Ginny immediately felt stupid for not realizing. "So he wouldn't like to see Hermione go through the same terrible situation. And besides, you are closer to Harry than I am. You're aware that he loves to help others, even those he does not particularly like very much."

Ginny nodded, fiddling with the ends of her fiery hair, immersed in her thoughts.

"I should have realized that," she said softly. "But you're right Luna…we shouldn't tell the others. They might try to get him to come anyway, not for his help, but to get him talking to us. And you're right that it's probably too early."

"So you will keep it a secret then?"

"Of course," Ginny agreed. "Even from Ron and Hermione."

"I think you should keep it secret especially from them," Luna noted. "They are Harry's best friends, but they want to see him as much as you do, yet they don't know him in the same way, so they don't realize that he can't be pursued at the moment. They're so eager to see their best friend that they would take any chance they are given, like this one."

Ginny nodded once more. She knew her brother and Hermione meant well, but they were too eager to see Harry for Harry's own good, and keeping them from contacting him for a bit longer was probably the best thing. He needed to mellow out. A lot.

"He needs to relax," Luna said, voicing Ginny's thoughts. "And we need to let him."

Ginny bit her lip but murmured a statement of agreement.

"Thanks, Luna," she smiled at her friend. "I think I'm going to stay out here for a little while. I'll be in soon."

Luna smiled back and nodded understandingly before heading back into the motel room.

Ginny took a few steps along the patio, staring off at the city buildings looming close by. Harry was somewhere there, she knew, yet no matter how close he was, she couldn't contact him. She couldn't even see him, because if she did, she knew for a fact that she would say something to him. But she wasn't quite sure what.

Ginny ran her fingers through her red tresses. What would she say when she encountered Harry? It would happen eventually, she knew. In fact, they all knew. She _planned _to encounter him at some point. And though they had briefly discussed what each friend would say to Harry, Ginny's encounter was completely unplanned, and she was left to her own devices.

And though she had so much she knew she _should _say to Harry, she was clueless as to what she _wanted _to tell him. Did she want to show how hurt she was when he left? The pity she felt for him? How she tried to understand?

Shaking her head, Ginny attempted to push the thought out of her mind, heading back inside, closing the door behind her.

"I FOUND IT!"

Ginny woke up the following morning to the shout. She jolted up in bed and glanced around, her eyes landing on the bed beside her's. There sat Hermione, Ron, George, and Neville, all crowded around something that was obscured by their bodies.

Ginny felt someone jolt up beside her and saw Luna sitting up, now also awake.

"What happened?" Ginny called out.

Hermione turned to her, tears of happiness filling her eyes.

"We found them," she said, smiling through every word. "We found them."

Ginny almost asked who they had found, when Luna whispered, "her parents."

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, her brown eyes widening. "Oh Merlin, that's incredible!"

"It's bloody brilliant!" Ron said with a grin. "Who knew muggle inventions would be so handy? Phone books…bloody hell, that's brilliant..."

Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled. There was the old Ron, still ever present even in times of difficulty.

"Neville found them," Ron explained, making enormous efforts to contain his excitement. "Just now, actually, so it's great you're awake because we're thinking of going to go find them and switch their memories and everything and—"

"Er, not quite yet, Ron," Hermione interjected softly.

Ron frowned and turned to face her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hermione looked at her hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, "modifying memories is immensely complicated. And unmodifying them is even more difficult. I'd really like to have a chat with Kingsley before I touch my parents' memories again…I wouldn't want to mess anything up."

"So what do we do then?" Neville asked.

"We write to Kingsley," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And maybe with some luck, he'll help us with Harry as well."

**Please review! Thank you so much if you do - it's incredibly appreciated. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi! So I found some free time tonight and decided to write up another chapter. :) I really don't know what's going on...I thought I'd be so much busier this time of year! Soon, though, I think things are gonna start picking up with school so if I don't update for a while, I apologize in advance. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thank you so so so much for reading! Reviews are appreciated immensely...I siriusly love them, they really motivate me to write. :) Okiedokes, well...I don't own Harry Potter. Enjoy! x**

Chapter 16

"Talking to Luna was comforting."

Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror of the hotel room's bathroom, his green eyes staring into themselves through smudged glasses. His hair was unruly, but not especially so, but as Harry found himself looking over various parts of his reflection, he forced himself to snap his eyes back up and look at the green circles reflected back at him in the mirror.

"Talking to Luna was comforting," Harry forced himself to repeat.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in and shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the reflection. He shut off the bathroom light and stepped out. It was about time he admitted to the positive aspects of seeing Luna. It had taken him two weeks.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. Talking to Luna was always beneficial, and always a nice experience. She drew things out of him that no one, sometimes not even Ginny, could manage to bring out. Which was a good thing…sometimes. When he wasn't going insane, like he was those couple weeks past.

Harry stood up and ambled over to the balcony, looking out. The harbor bridge stood proudly in the midst of the sparkling water, and the sun hung over the skyline as it always did. Sydney was beautiful, there was no doubt about it; but it certainly wasn't London—that was for sure.

Harry shook his head. No, it was a _good_ thing that Sydney wasn't like London. He needed to get _away _from London, not be reminded of it.

_Yeah, and that worked so well, _Harry thought wryly.

He peered over the edge, watching the people walk down the street, some in groups, chattering happily, others walking alone, sipping a steaming cup of coffee or tea. Businessmen rushed along, clutching their briefcases to their chest as they frantically checked their watch every few moments. Children clung to their mother's hand, their feet stepping quickly to keep up with the brisk morning pace.

"Maybe I should go see them," Harry heard himself murmur.

Without even mentioning names, Harry immediately knew whom he was talking about. Pulling away from the window, he bit his lip. Seeking out and talking to any of them would be giving up. Giving up his new life, his new chance, his new opportunity to start over without any reminders of his past. But then again, all the new in his life wasn't really leading him anywhere but an empty, expensive hotel room overlooking the harbor. It was a nice room, that was true, but if there was nothing he would do, and if there was no one to join him, what was the point in it all?

"But I don't want to seem like I'm caving in to them," Harry muttered to himself, pacing around the room. "I don't want to give in."

_But you _are _giving in; _a voice in his head reminded him.

Harry brushed aside the thought and paced around a bit more. When he was finally beginning to feel dizzy from his thoughtful walking, he decided to take a more interesting walk around the city and hope that he would happen upon one of his fellow British wizards, rather than have to seek them out himself. That would be many times more embarrassing than agreeing to simply listen.

It had only taken Harry a few minutes of walking down the concrete road when he saw a familiar profile a few meters ahead. He squinted his eyes; he pushed his glasses more firmly up his nose. Yes, there was no mistaking the guy there. It was Neville Longbottom.

"All right, Harry?" the not-so-round-faced-anymore wizard said with a grin, holding out his hand.

Harry surprised himself and took his hand, giving it a shake.

"I've been better," Harry said truthfully. "And yourself?"

"Not bad," Neville shrugged. "You finally going to talk to me, mate?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. He hadn't known Neville had been planning on talking to him…he thought it merely to be a happy coincidence.

"I suppose," Harry nodded. "I've realized I can't avoid you lot forever."

Neville grinned again.

"Nope, you can't," he agreed. "We're pretty tough to get rid of."

"I can see that," Harry muttered.

"Come on, then, let's take a bit of a walk," Neville beckoned him.

The two friends headed down towards the pier, walking in silence until they arrived. They looked out over the glistening water, the shining ships, and the famous opera house for a while, standing side by side. Pangs of pain shot through Harry as they stood there, thinking of all the tragedies that had happened to Neville. And Neville was one of the luckier ones.

"You're not going to run away again, are you Harry?"

Harry's head shot up at that, and he looked at Neville, slightly stung. It sounded much worse when someone said it than when he simply thought it.

"I—I…no," Harry shook his head.

"Good," Neville said firmly. "Because you need to hear me out, all right?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"Harry…" Neville began, trailing off a bit before continuing. "You're honestly the biggest inspiration in my life. I…I know I don't normally go all mushy on you, or on anyone really, but it's true. I admire you so much, and you don't even know how much you've influenced me. And not in the terrible ways that I know you're probably thinking, but in good ways. Our fifth year, in the DA, you believed in me, even when no one else, even the teachers, did. You kept telling me I could do it, that I would get the spells, and you know what? Because of you, I did. And because of you, I killed the snake. And because of you, I became a true Gryffindor, because if it hadn't been for you, Harry, I don't think I would have ever found my inner Gryffindor courage, and that would have been a shame. You've helped me make my friends proud, you've helped me make my gran proud, and basically, you've helped me make myself proud. So thanks, mate. Thanks so much."

"Neville, I…" Harry began, his mind overwhelmed by Neville's speech. "I…"

"You're welcome is the proper term, I believe," Neville said with a smile.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, which he realized must have been his first laugh in weeks.

"You're welcome," he gave in, managing a smile. "Even though—"

But Neville held up his hand, cutting him off.

"I don't want to hear it," he shook his head. "I don't want to hear your reasoning or your explanations about how you caused me pain or whatever other things you have to say, because quite frankly it's a load of rubbish."

Harry stared at him, shocked, his mouth ajar. Neville _never _spoke like that. Even in the Battle of Hogwarts, all pumped up with adrenaline and Gryffindor bravery, he hadn't ever been so blatantly…filled with _nerve_.

"Right," Harry muttered.

"Harry, mate, I know you can't help it," Neville said in a quieter tone. "I know you're going through a lot, and that this is maybe some weird way of coping. But you really have got to let go of the fact that you're a horrible person, and you've _got _to stop listening to those papers, no matter what they're saying. Anything they say, good or bad, is an exaggeration. The people you've really got to start listening to are your friends. Me, Luna, George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny…we tell you like it is. We're honest with you. Promise."

Harry took a deep breath, holding in all his frantic explanations and comments and insecurities. Locking his jaw, he looked back at Neville and nodded slowly but firmly.

Neville grinned.

"Good," he said, and gave Harry a quick hug. "I know you still need some time. I just wanted you to know that you're not as bad as you think."

And with another smile, Neville was gone.

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	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: HI EVERYONE! I am so so so so so sorry I haven't written in over a month! I have been so busy with school and everything that I haven't had much time to do ANYTHING these days. I'm so sorry! Anyway, hope you like the chapter! I will try my very best to continue to update, but in all likelihood the updating for the next few months will be infrequent. Thank you so much for reading! Please review! x**

Chapter 17

"Has it come yet?"

Ginny turned around from the small kitchen table to face the direction the voice had come from. Ron stood there in his pajamas, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Realizing what he was talking about, Ginny shook her head and frowned, clasping her hands more firmly around her mug of tea.

"Merlin, he's sure taking his time," Ron grumbled, plopping down in a seat across the table.

"He's probably got thousands of letters to read, Ron," Ginny pointed out. "And they're all probably very important. About the war and such, I'm sure."

"Yeah, but Hermione was one of the people who helped bloody _end _the war!"

"I know you want the best for her, Ron, and I know you want her to find her parents," Ginny stated, taking a gulp of tea while looking him in the eye, "but to be truthful, it can wait a bit. I…I don't want to sound heartless but there are people who need funerals, need help building their destroyed homes, need things immediately. Hermione's parents are okay, so it can wait a bit."

"Ginny, wouldn't you be a bloody mess if we were away from mum and dad for nearly a year? I think that Hermione _needs _her parents…she's only eighteen! I'd say most eighteen year olds need their parents to some extent, especially after they've been through a bloody war!"

Ginny pursed her lips, annoyed at her brother's outburst towards her. Despite this, she mustered all her self-control to calm her raging temper, and took a deep breath and another sip of the chamomile.

"I'm just providing what is probably Kingsley's reasoning," she said simply.

Ron mumbled something to himself but didn't raise his voice again.

They sat there a bit awkwardly, Ron glaring off into space while Ginny looked down at the contents of her mug. A few tealeaves floated to the top, mars in the otherwise perfectly smooth light brown color. She wrapped her hands around the mug, warming them. Australia wasn't cold per se, but her hands always felt cold those days.

"Any news?"

Ginny turned around as Neville entered the kitchen. She shook her head, and Ron grumbled an annoyed reply.

"I guess Kingsley's busy," Neville said, taking a chair beside the two Weasley siblings. "Anyone else awake?"

Ginny shook her head.

"They're asleep," she said. "There's not much we can do, so why not sleep, right?"

"Why aren't you asleep then?" Neville asked Ginny, standing up from the table to pour himself a cup of tea.

"Can't sleep," Ginny shrugged. "Been having trouble."

"Harry?" Neville asked, and Ginny half-nodded.

"I can't help but worry about him," she admitted. "It's not that I'm pining for him…that's pathetic, and I wouldn't do that. It's just…I'm worried about him. I know you said you spoke to him—"

"He's seriously improving, Ginny," Neville said sincerely, sitting down with his tea. "I'm not just saying that to make you feel better, either. He listened to everything I had to say, and he even talked a bit. I think we're getting through to him."

"About time," Ron said. "Stupid bloke."

Ginny smiled. Ron was kidding, to an extent.

"What a noble git," she agreed.

"But he's our noble git."

The three of them turned around yet again to see Hermione standing there.

"Hermione," Ron said, and she kissed his cheek as she sat down in the chair beside him.

"I don't care how long this takes," she said. "Although I'd love for it to go faster, if it's better to progress slowly, that's how we'll go about it."

Neville handed Hermione a cup of tea, and she thanked him as she poured in some milk and sugar.

"By the way…" Hermione said, her voice a bit more timid than usual. "Have we gotten any post?"

The room was silent for few awkward moments, and Ginny finally shook her head.

"No," she said. "Sorry, Hermione."

"It's all right," Hermione said hastily. "It's no problem. I…I don't mean to draw the attention away from Harry, I was just wondering. It's not a big deal. It's really…it's…it's fine."

Ginny looked up at friend and realized at that moment that Hermione was quite clearly _not _fine. Her hands shook as she attempted to open a packet of sugar, her lips trembled, and the corners of her eyes glistened.

"Hermione…" Ginny began, but Hermione shook her head and dashed out of the room, Ron following only a few steps behind her.

Ginny felt compelled to jump up from her chair as well, but restrained herself and simply watched Ron hasten after the bushy-haired girl. As they disappeared down the hall, Luna and George emerged, and joined them at the kitchen table.

"What happened?" George asked. "Was Ron a git again?"

"No, Ron's actually being quite lovely to her," Ginny nodded. "It's…I…she's stressed. We haven't gotten news from Kingsley yet."

"I'm sure she misses her parents terribly," Luna piped up. "I know I miss my father and it's only been a few weeks since I've seen him last. She has every right to miss them, and to cry about it. She tries too hard to be practical too often."

"That's Hermione," Ginny muttered.

The young witches and wizards sat in silence around the table, each of them gazing down into their hands or their mugs. The silence wasn't exactly uncomfortable, yet a feeling of worry and sadness hung in the air.

"She will be okay, you know," Luna spoke up again. "Hermione is strong, and Ron is there for her."

Ginny nodded. She knew that Hermione would be okay. Hermione was one of the bravest, strongest witches she knew. Not only was she the most intelligent student at Hogwarts, but she journeyed through the English countryside hunting down dark magical objects to try to defeat Voldemort. That made her, in Ginny's eyes, also one of the bravest witches she knew.

"Brave girl," George murmured, and they all nodded.

Ginny knew it would have meant something to Hermione for her to hear that. She remembered a discussion she had with her once, only a few years back, when times weren't as disastrous. Ginny didn't remember the entire conversation, but what she clearly remembered was Hermione saying that she never received compliments on anything but her intelligence. Ginny had been determined to change that.

She took a sip of tea and gathered the willpower to look up at her brothers and friends. They sat there just as awkwardly, unsure whether to stare at each other, or stare into their drinks.

Just as Ginny was about to make light conversation, there was a knock on the door.

They all simultaneously frowned.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Neville asked.

"I don't think so," Ginny shook her head.

They all waited there for a moment, until they heard the knock again.

"I suppose we should answer the door," Luna said, as if the matter was that simple.

"What if it's a Death Eater?" Neville mused. "Should we have our wands ready?"

"But what if it's a Muggle?" George countered. "That would look ridiculous then."

"Oh, just open the door, you lot," Ginny rolled her eyes and marched towards the door. She twisted the knob, and pulled it open. Upon opening it, she quickly stashed her wand away.

In the doorway stood a man and a woman, seemingly middle-aged, each with an uncertain look upon their faces.

"Hello," Ginny said politely. "Can I…help you?"

"Hello," the woman said. "We're Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Is Hermione there, by any chance?"

**A/N: Review please? :)**


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